Happy Is The Heart That Still Feels Pain
by LadyxB
Summary: Set after the episode 'Dead Things,' when Buffy beats up Spike in the alley. AU in which Spike leaves and Buffy is left feeling guilty and confused. The title is based off of the Ingrid Michaelson song 'Everybody.'
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except the original ideas that allow me to play with these characters.

Buffy was exhausted. The evening had seemed to go on forever and her emotions had run the gamut from adrenaline-fueled, terrified, guilty, hatred, relieved, and guilty all over again for different reasons. In the moment, it had felt right to take it all out on Spike. He had been asking for it just as much as she was giving it, and just like he had taken every bruising kiss, scratch across skin, and so much more, he had taken her punches.

After she had realized she was innocent, Buffy had first checked on Dawn and felt the relief of being home. Stripping off her clothes, she stood under the stream of hot water for a good long while before cozying up under her sheets, attempting to stop shivering from the cold and the idea of what could have happened, what she might have done. But then, as her eyes flickered shut, she remembered what she had done.

Her conscience alert again, she dragged herself out of bed and back into the dreaded alleyway to find Spike gone. The blood stains left no long trail, but she hit up all of the spots he might have been, his crypt, Willy's, finally landing back at her own house, behind his tree, but he wasn't there. With a promise that she'd look harder the next day, Buffy had fallen back into bed, her heart beating more fiercely than she'd like to admit.

The night turned into day, day turned into many, into weeks, and she had yet to find him. They all made comments, Xander about the solitude of the undead finally realizing they weren't welcome, Willow more curious, Tara and Dawn showing concern, and Anya with an odd sense of appreciation for him giving up and moving on. Buffy expected him to pop up eventually, at the Magic Box, the Bronze, on patrol, her house as he did most days, but when he didn't appear at her birthday party, her worry turned into panic.

Despite herself, Buffy patrolled more to find him than to slay the vampires and demons of the Hellmouth in which she didn't share a love-hate, complicated relationship. There was still no sign of him, and she had paid special attention to the tinglies that would appear at the back of her neck, waiting and hoping, squinting out into the darkness of her yard, but still nothing. She was three weeks in when she stopped by his crypt, at this point just to take a private moment to herself, as she had now grown accustomed.

Standing outside, the sound of movement in the crypt made her heart wrench with something akin to hope, so she didn't even mean to barge down the door in an aggressive way, so much as hopeful.

"'Allo there, Buffy. Doing ok?"

Stomach sinking, Buffy forced a smile at the wrinkly demon she had met during the disastrous kitten poker game. He had his arms up in a protective stance, but his voice was calm.

"Clem, fine. And you?"

"You know, same old-"

"Sure, sure. Well, actually, Clem, why are you here? Spike-"

"Told me I could stop in from time to time, keep an eye on things. Not sure when he'd be coming back, so he needed someone to keep things in order."

"But he will be? Coming back I mean?"

The look Clem offered was far too understanding for Buffy's liking.

"Said he would and I have no reason not to believe him."

"Would this be in demon years or more like human?"

Clem chuckled, his eyes softening.

"Can't imagine it'd be much longer. He seemed motivated to get back here."

Buffy sighed as she took this in. She was conflicted, as she was so often when it came to the vampire. Relief that he had left on his own accord and not from some violent action, anger that he had left at all, hurt that it had of course been because of her, but hope that he would be coming back. Sitting down on the couch she had so often glanced at with disdain, yet had somehow come to feel cozy and comfortable in a not singularly physical way, she put her head in her hands and tried to clear her thoughts. She, and this was difficult to admit to herself, let alone out loud, missed him very clearly in this moment.

"Any idea why he left in the first place?"

"Said he had to see someone about a girl. Had to give her what she deserved."

"Did he say what that might be?"

"Think you might have a better idea. Do anything particularly deserving lately?"

"Can think of a few things."

Buffy's tone was bitter and sarcastic. Frowning, Clem shook his head, a finger raising to his chin, which would have been comical had Buffy not been so disconcerted.

"Now that I think of it, he did mention something about a chip. How it wasn't good enough anymore, holding him back or something. Does that make any sense to you? I just assumed he meant of the potato variety, but-"

Cold swept through her, her stomach dropping, heart thundering with the realization of what he must be seeking. Buffy glanced up at Clem who had returned to his more relaxed state and situated himself on the opposite side of the couch.

It had been years now since she'd viewed him as anything more than an annoying, constant, somewhat comforting pain in the ass. In her mind, all she could picture was the face of the vamped out, bleached-blonde threat standing in front of her, snarling about how he couldn't wait to kill her. It was one thing that he could hurt her for whatever reason, but to be unleashed, and with renewed determination and motivation, he'd be unstoppable.

Leaping off the couch, Buffy rushed to the entrance of the crypt, stopping and turning back towards Clem as an after thought.

"If you see him, you'll let me know when he's back?"

"Uh, yeah sure," but Buffy could tell that it wasn't exactly a promise. His initial hesitance and failure to meet her eyes let her know that Clem had picked up on her defensive mode. It was with an odd sense of comfort that she realized Spike had at least one friend on his side. She just hoped he hadn't blown it by getting his chip removed.

* * *

Spike lay in the belly of the airplane, barricaded in place by the excess of luggage people assumed they needed to bring with them everywhere. His stomach called for blood, limbs ached, head swirled, undead heart broke, and yet, it was his newly restored soul that overtook his entire being. He had done it for the girl, to be better, to help her, to understand her pain, not just take it any longer. Lying in that alley, seeing the dead expression behind her eyes, he had realized the error in his tactics. He shouldn't have been dragging her into the darkness with him, and he couldn't ask her to bring him into the light with her, she was barely there herself anymore. No, Spike had to seek it himself, to deserve it, to deserve her.

Except now that he had it, the soul, something that had seemed so simple in the abstract, blinded him, shaken him to his core. It was a conscience he sought, the ability to fully appreciate the depth of human emotion, but all he found now was grief, pain, and it killed him to know that Buffy couldn't even feel that any longer.

He knew, he knew, _he knew_ , he didn't deserve her at all, but here he was, flying back to Sunnydale because he had nowhere else to go. And didn't that just make him want to dust into a million little pieces.


	2. Chapter 2

Buffy hadn't wanted to tell her friends under the fear that they might ask pressing questions she wasn't willing to answer. The things that her and Spike had done, what they had shared in however twisted a way, were private and to admit to any of it, particularly under these circumstances, felt like a betrayal. Not all of the moments had been bad. When she had given into his charms and allowed him just a taste of what it might feel like to woo her, Buffy felt as though she were seeing the real Spike. It was only when she pulled back and came at him with full and aggressive force that he threw it right back at her. The poor guy was good at giving her what she wanted.

Only the fear that Spike would return and reveal himself before she could find him, that he might go after her friends first, made her tell them. Their reactions were predictable. Xander had been angry, saying over and over again how he had warned them about this happening. Willow had itched to reach for her magic books to find the solution there, but Tara's nervous eyes and expression prevented her. She had only seen Anya in passing after the disastrous wedding, but the former and possibly current demon had just told Buffy it was their problem, not hers. Over the phone, Giles had sighed heavily and she picture him cleaning his glasses, his grim warning reminding her of her duty. Tara and Dawn were the only ones sympathetic to Spike and questioning of Buffy's motives. They couldn't quite believe that the vampire they had come to know so well in the past few years was capable of the destruction he once had. Of them all, it was only them two who had asked her why she was so certain of this possible rampage in the first place. She hadn't been able to look them in the eye when she came up with a half-hearted lie, though Tara's demeanor spoke of knowledge she wouldn't reveal. It was because of this, and Dawn's sulking, that Buffy was avoiding being alone with either of them.

It was something just to have a mission again. Staving off the nerdy trio was infuriating, but the slayer in her was itching for a fight, for a worthy opponent. If she didn't think of said opponent being Spike, it was easy for the warrior side to take charge. When she remembered just what it was in which she was preparing, a weird knot twisted in her stomach, something like dread, fear, and sadness. But it was better than the emptiness that she had fallen into so often before, the emptiness from which Spike had so often saved her. Even in his absence, he was doing her a favor. She wanted to hate him.

On patrol, she narrowed in on the vamped out faces, full out hate and blood lust, spiting them for their existence as she staked them into oblivion. But when she tried to envision Spike, coming at her as they did now, as he once had, it was different. Human face or vampire visage, he was different. Spike fought like he loved, with everything he had. She was not simply a vehicle for his aggression and so if it came down to it, she knew she could stake him, but it would cost her a lot to do it.

Had he loved her? Buffy thought now maybe he had, or still did, and it killed her to think of what she had driven him to do. Thoughts like this reminded her of Angel and when she had had to send him to Hell. After being brought back by Willow, Buffy had ] too much reflection time, but she had realized that even soulless, Angel had loved her in his dark and twisted way, he had just been consumed and obsessed by it that he lashed out in his violent and domineering way. Soulless Spike was far tamer, which spoke volumes considering his capabilities, but the chip prevented him from acting on his urges to the extreme. Now he would die, at her own hands, because his love for her had once again been too encompassing. It was not a pretty thought.

After one last sweep of the cemetery, Buffy brushed herself off and headed home. She was looking forward to falling into bed, but as she rounded the corner, she noticed Willow and Dawn waiting for her on the steps. This could not be good.

"What's with the faces?"

Buffy saw the small, black gadget cradled in Willow's hands before the red-head held it up for her.

"Huh?"

Willow looked at her like it was obvious.

"It's a camera."

"For security purposes?"

"It's not my camera."

"Someone's creeping on us majorly. This is the fifth one we found, all over the house. And we're being bugged, which means whoever did this can hear us too." Dawn ended the rant with an exasperated sigh to ensure that Buffy understood the severity of the situation.

"Tremendous. And here I thought I might have a quiet evening. Any idea who's creeping?"

Willow chewed her lip as she thought about it.

"Well, my first thought was Spike-"

"He wouldn't-" Dawn burst out.

"But he hasn't been around in weeks and these look new. Plus, I don't think he's all up on the technology except for working the TV and of course, the Buffybot, which means-"

"Warren," Buffy frowned as she said it.

"And his band of nerds."

Dawn looked at them with contempt.

"Just jump right to Spike first though, of course. He isn't even here anymore and yet we're still blaming him. No wonder he went off to get his chip out. I'd hate us too."

"Dawnie-"

"Don't."

Ignoring Buffy's sighs, Dawn stalked back into the house. Willow looked at her with sympathetic understanding.

"She'll see reason when he comes back, unfortunately. I don't know who will take it harder, her or Tara. He's all either of them talk about anymore.

 _Great,_ Buffy thought. _Poor Dawn and Tara missing Spike._ None of them had allowed her to grieve Angel properly when she knocked him off, so she couldn't imagine the warm and fuzzies coming her way if she had to do the same to Spike.

"Come on in, I think I can figure out where these feeds lead."

With another sigh, Buffy shuffled inside behind Willow. Dawn made her way back downstairs as Willow set up at the computer. They all watched in horror as all the places the cameras had been set up to watch them revealed themselves.

"Oh, lookie us getting techie. Do you really think setting a camera up in Spike's crypt gives us an advantage?"

Xander's grin quickly turned into a deep frown when the women turned on him.

"Hey, I'm not the one with the camera."

"Neither are we," Buffy said. "It seems the trio's been watching us, but we have no idea for how long. Willow and Dawn found the cameras here, they have it at your apartment, Spike's crypt, and-" Buffy paused as another feed popped up showing the Magic Box. "But of course."

"We're sure it's the trio and not the Undead? I mean, who else would want to watch Buffy so closely?"

Dawn's glare shut him up quickly.

"Anya!" Xander pointed to the feed. "It's Anya. I haven't seen her in- so this must mean she's back."

They all turned their attention back to the screen to watch as Anya strode around the store, shutting things down for the night.

"She seems- Well, she doesn't seem too-That son of a bitch!"

It took Buffy a second to realize what was causing Xander's reaction, but when she saw it, she froze. Her entire body shuddered as she watched Spike bang on the door of the Magic Box before thrusting the door open and stumbling inside. He looked terrible and she grimaced, wondering if his wounds were still from the alley or if something else had gotten him.

"They're speaking, turn it up!"

"I'm not waiting around, watching him-"

"Just wait a second, Xan-" Buffy grabbed him by the arm, holding him in place. "They're just talking."

On the screen, Anya jumped and reached for a stake that had been sitting on the counter.

"For your information, vampire, I'm no longer a part of that little Scooby group either any longer, so you can just take your chip-less fangs elsewhere!"

"What are you babbling on about?"

"We know what you went off to do. Buffy told us."

"Buffy? Buffy knows? But how-?"

"I don't care how she knows, just know that she knows and she's going to kill you for it."

To all their surprise, Spike burst out laughing, but not in a cheerful sort of way. His tone was bitter and haunting.

"I'd be better off that way. Take the pain and blast it into pieces."

"The pain, but- Do you mean from getting the chip out?"

Spike stopped muttering to himself and looked up at her. When he took a step closer, Xander took advantage of Buffy's loosened grip and broke away. He was out the door before she could react, but Buffy's focus remained on the screen, so transfixed that she barely noticed.

"The chip?" Spike's voice was barely a whisper and all three women leaned in closer. "The bloody chip is useless. Didn't get it removed, if that's what you think. Might as well have. Is that what she believes? Good, tell her that then."

"But-"

"Look, I came to find something that would dull the pain. Do you know any spells to make someone numb or-"

"But what sort of pain? Physical? Because you look like hell and- Wouldn't blood be your best bet? Do you really still have the chip because that would be a relief because if you hate Xander as much as I do then it would be nice to have an ally? Always thought we were similar and if you wanted to make a wish, I-"

"Didn't you marry the Whelp?"

"He didn't go through with it. Ran away actually and-"

"Ponce." Spike collapsed against the counter. "Listen, I don't care what I look like, I just want something to numb the- hey, back off!"

Anya's eyes widened as she stepped closer to him as though to inspect his injuries. When his eyes met hers, she froze. She raised a hand to his forehead to wipe the messy curls away from his eyes.

"How did you do it?" She whispered. "How did you get your soul back?"

Buffy knew it to be true even without his response. She could see it in him, his defeat and grief and pain. He had gone off to give the girl, her, what she deserved. For a moment, her heart flared warm, but before she could consider this further, she realized that Xander had left and where he had gone. Buffy tore herself away from the screen, out the door, and sprinted with everything she had to get to the Magic Box in time to stop Xander from making a huge mistake.


	3. Chapter 3

Buffy's lungs burned, nausea rose, and panic flourished, but she kept running, unwilling to accept failure. Every pounding of her foot against the pavement seemed to shout, _Spike._ As she turned the corner, she heard the loud voices before she saw the three figures standing in the shadows of the exterior of the Magic Box. A strangled scream echoed through the darkness and it surprised her to realize it was her own.

Squinting, she could make out Spike splayed out across the window of the store, Xander looming over him, and Anya next to them, gesturing wildly. Pulling up in front of them, she found Xander, eyes blazing, holding a stake up to Spike's chest as he gripped him around the neck with one hand. The vampire was not attempting to fight back.

"Xander-"

"Let me do it, Buffy. I can end this, finally, I-"

"But, you don't understand, he-"

It was Anya who broke Xander's hold on Spike when she thwacked him over the head with one of the old, large, and dusty textbooks that sat on the bookshelves in the shop.

"I tried to tell him to stop."

She shrugged but did not seem too sorry about it at all as she grabbed one of Spike's hands and helped him stand. Without another word, Anya walked back into the store and shut the door in their faces.

Buffy could not speak as she took in the sight of him. Part of her knew she should be attending to Xander, but seeing Spike now, with the bruises and gashes, and knowing what she did, the soul, she could not spare her friend a thought. Spike would not look at her. Instead, he faced towards the empty street, slumped over against the windowpane. All Buffy wanted was for him to speak, to explain, to mock or threaten, to tease or brag. She wanted the cocky, not this defeated ghost of the vampire she knew. But then, he couldn't be the same any longer.

After a long, silent moment, Buffy watched as Spike fumbled in his jacket pocket and took out his lighter and a cigarette. The movement, so standard, so Spike, shook her from her reverie.

"Spike, you- you're trembling. I-"

He looked at her then, so sudden and alarmed, almost panicky, and it sent a flare of fear through her.

"Do it, then, yeah? Bloody well know why you're here. I've been a bad man, did a bad thing. Do your job, Slayer."

"The chip-"

"It's gone, yeah. Found myself a doc and removed the blasted thing. Look at me, the Big Bad is back and-"

"Maybe I'd believe you if you could muster a little more energy." She attempted a smirk, but it died on her lips as she took in his expression. "I- well, we could see you and hear you. There was a video feed, cameras, Warren- It's why Xander came running, he thought- But he didn't hear- a soul?"

She couldn't get the words out fast enough. She wanted him to understand, to know that she knew and it was okay, but he seemed to shrink even further.

"Heard that then? Sunnydale's no place for a secret."

"Not in my town."

"Right then," Spike brushed himself off and stood up straight. "I'll be off."

Buffy was tempted to let him go, but then, she saw it, the formation of a new kind of mission. Maybe if she didn't have to focus so much on her own problems, if she could help him, then-

"Spike!"

He stopped, his shoulders sagging as he sighed deeply, before he whipped around and faced her. A familiar expression of exasperation gracing her that almost made her smile.

She tried again, less urgent this time.

"Spike-"

"Don't expect anything, Luv. Didn't do this to cause you any more problems. I just thought- But don't fret. 'Ol Spikey's just feeling a little down, sure you know what that feels like. Be back to myself soon. Can be your punching bag, good as new."

"But-"

"Take the Whelp back home. Demon-Girl can pack a punch."

"Where will you go?"

"Back to my crypt for the 'mo. Don't know where after."

"I can come tomorrow. With blood and-"

"Like I said, don't need your help, Slayer. You take care of yours and I'll take care of mine."

All the words that ran through her mind would not string together to formulate a cohesive sentence. There were so many things she wanted, or needed, to say, and yet, she didn't know how to convey it. Buffy wasn't sure how or why, but she knew it was different now. Completely. He was different, had been the moment he left, before she even knew he had gone to fetch his soul because he had shown her that he really wasn't just her punching bag. By leaving, Spike had forced Buffy to realize how badly she had been treating him, how bad off she was emotionally, and that had changed her perspective on him. Now, with the soul, she felt responsible.

Long after he disappeared into the night, Buffy watched after him. It was only when a muffled groan from Xander reminded her that he was on the ground, unconscious beside her, that she moved.

Before she could reach a hand down to assist him, Xander shot up, rubbing his head.

"What the hell happened? Where is he? Did you dust him, Buff? Because so help me, if I didn't get to see it, I'll-"

"You missed some important details by running out of the house like that."

"But Anya-"

"Was never in any danger. Not from Spike at least."

"But you said- The chip- Danger to us all. Ring a bell?"

"I was wrong." Buffy sighed. "I heard what Clem said and jumped to conclusions. Had I just listened a bit more- But then, I never could have guessed. He did it himself, Xan. No other reason than to-"

"Did he or didn't he?"

"He didn't, but he did."

"Is this an after effect of my head wound?"

"Xander, he got a soul."

"But how-? Why? What?"

"All good questions," Buffy sighed.

"You believe him?"

"If you'd taken a chance and looked at him, Xander. I think you would too."

She took off then, towards home, Xander following quietly behind, rubbing his head and looking as confused and conflicted as she felt.

* * *

Spike stumbled his way back to his crypt. He should have known better than to have gone to the Magic Box. He really hadn't intended to see her, was hoping she would be at home or patrolling and that he could find Anya on her own. All he wanted was to not feel the immensity of grief that weighed him down. A simple spell would have been easy, not to remove the soul, because hell, he'd fought for that thing to remain permanent, no matter the circumstances. But just a smidgen of relief would offer him a chance to enjoy the benefits of having a soul. He figured there had to be some.

When the Whelp had come barging into the store, dragging him by his duster and sweeping him into the streets, he had welcomed the idle nothingness that dusting would provide. Having it be at the hands of the boy wasn't entirely savory, though when he saw Buffy he thought at least he had a worthy adversary, but of course she had known. A vampire did not simply do something without the slayer and her minions knowing about it. Now he was certain he would be their next little project. Perhaps a second chance at an Angel-wannabe that they could fix up and redeem. Well, he wasn't the Ponce and he knew he could never be redeemed for all that he had done. Not only did he not want their help as a charity case, but he really didn't want to burden her further. The purpose of getting the soul had been to have an actual shot of having a chance with her, but all it provided was the realization that he needed to stay far away from her, for her own good. The only thing the Poof ever had right.

It was selfish having come back to Sunnydale. Worse even that he had run into her and revealed his little secret. He'd take a few days, heal physically, get his affairs in order, say goodbye to Clem, and get the hell out of Dodge. But bloody, buggering, sodding hell to everything, he'd miss her. Already did. The way she looked at him, with sympathy, or more like pity, as though he was a dying animal on the side of the road. Road kill, they called it. That's what he was.

But he'd be road kill with a purpose, so long as he was un-living. He just needed to find one.

As he shoved open the door, finding his home to be dark and empty, something crept to the forefront of his mind. What's that she had said, about how she found out about his condition? Something about Warren, the creep. Spike cringed in shame, remembering the Buffybot. The boy and his little friends had placed cameras, were watching Buffy, always planning, always hurting. It was one thing to go up against demons and vampires every night, but Spike knew Buffy wouldn't go to all necessary measures when it came to taking on a group of measly humans.

There it was then, his purpose. He'd find a way to put a stop to the lumps, in a way Buffy might approve, preferably without her knowing. His final gift to her. She'd be able to move on with her life, grow past the self-hatred, heal, live, without the gnats flying above her head, including him.

Maybe then, and only then, would he rest.

With this final thought, like a whispered prayer on his lips, Spike crashed down onto the hard sarcophagus and fell into a ragged sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Dawn met her at the doorway, tears in her eyes, fists balled at her sides, angry words spewing from her mouth. All Buffy could do was put her arms around her sister, needing the contact and comfort just as much as her.

"He's fine, he's fine, _he's fine,_ " she whispered into Dawn's hair, rubbing soothing circles across her back, but meaning it more to herself than her sister.

Dawn's ranting turned into sobs and it was only when Xander sheepishly walked through the door, turning to Willow for confirmation, that she pulled away and turned on him. None of the words Dawn flung at him, at them, stuck, because she was caught up in her own thoughts, but she caught the gist of it. Spike good, Scoobies bad. With a final flourish, she watched as her sister stomped up the stairs and turned to find Willow and Xander watching her.

"Is he- Well, is he okay?" Willow eyed her nervously.

"He's fine. Anya made sure of that."

"No, but- We saw that on the camera. I mean, mentally? Emotionally?"

"He's a mess," Xander broke in.

Buffy glared at him. "Funny, you seemed too occupied in trying to kill him to notice."

"Yeah, well- Hindsight, I guess. He didn't even try to fight back."

"What does this all mean? I could call Giles and-"

"No!"

"But, Buffy, he needs-"

"Time and rest for himself. He doesn't need us interfering, Willow. And I don't think there's much we can find for him on the research front. Angel's the only vampire I've ever heard about having a soul and he's not exactly a role model Spike will take to."

"Buffy- The soul itself, it's special, but-" Willow sighed in dramatic effect. "To have gone out and sought it for himself? A demon? That's remarkable and- and- unprecedented and-"

"Let's not get crazy with all the adjectives there, Wills. It's still Spike we're talking about." Xander gestured wildly to make his point.

"But hasn't he always been kind of different? Coming to us for help when he first got chipped, killing demons, helping out against Glory, taking care of Dawn during the summer after-?"

"But it's Spike. And he's-"

"One of us."

Xander whipped around on her and Willow's eyes went wide.

"Buffy-!"

"We've fought that for a long time, but it's true. Like it or not Xander, he deserves to be a part of this team, even before the soul. That means he deserves our help. Right now, we'll give him the time and space that he needs. Willow, if you really think it's necessary, then yes, please, make with the research, but don't expect him to feed into it. I'm going to bed, but we can talk about it more tomorrow."

Resolved and determined, Buffy turned on her heels and started to walk upstairs. She froze.

"Oh, and Xander? You'll want to ice that bump, look for signs of a concussion. Anya knocked you down hard."

She knew they were frowning at her, waiting for more; Xander because he couldn't believe how much her perspective on Spike had changed in mere minutes and Willow because she hated to leave things unresolved. Spike may have turned to Anya for a quick spell of relief, but it would not do anything for him long term. In the morning, she would strategize on the best way to help him, to move on from here, to make him feel like he really was a part of this team, but right now, she needed to sleep. So much had changed, so quickly, and though she was deeply moved, part of her still felt numb and uncertain.

For months, Spike had fought her and fought for her, culminating in something so against his nature. Since she had died, and even before then, she had barely had the strength to fight for herself. It was always about what everyone else needed, what was good for them. Most of those things, they were worth it- nursing her mom through her illness, saving Dawn- and some seemed to ask too much- sacrificing her life for the world, then being ripped out of Heaven because the world couldn't handle not having her in it. For once, she just wanted things to be easy.

In a way, Spike getting his chip out would have been easiest. He would come after her, they would fight, one of them would die. This curveball of his forced her to tackle another complicated, uncomfortable matter, and yet, despite how tired she felt, how much it scared her, how much it meant without being able to identify those feelings, it was worth it.

Buffy woke early in the morning, the sun barely awake and the house quiet. It had not been a long night's sleep, but she felt well rested, waking with a purpose. Breakfast was buttered, burnt toast she barely tasted, so caught up in her thoughts. Above her, she could hear stirrings from her sister and friend, mixing with the snores coming from Xander sprawled out on the couch in her living room. Before they could bombard her with questions, opinions, and tactics, she ran out the door, stopping on the way to the butcher's that seemed to be open at all hours, before heading to Spike's crypt.

The space was dark, yet Spike's silhouette was spotlighted by the indirect sunlight streaming through the stained glass. He still looked like hell, bruises covering his face, neck, and chest. His black t-shirt bore a deep gash at the collar, revealing a strip of badly scarred skin over where his heart. Needing to explore further, Buffy strode towards his sleeping form, her fingers reaching out to investigate when his hand wrapped itself around her wrist, though with a gentle grip.

"Spike's in no condition to play, Kitten, but come again another day."

"Don't be a pig, Spike."

"You're the grabby girl, Slayer. 'M just trying to protect my goods."

"For your information," it was difficult to cross her arms holding the large bag with a month's worth of blood, but she tried her best. "I was not making with the gropey. You have scratches across your chest and-"

"None of your business."

"What happened, Spike?"

"Already confirmed what you heard, yeah? Got my soul."

"But how?"

"Earned it, I did, Slayer, so don't go getting any ideas."

"Did they have to cut you open to put it in you? I don't understand-"

To her surprise, Spike burst out laughing, his bitter and sarcastic tone present.

"No such thing, Luv. The soul, it's almost like an ideal, not physical, though it hurts like hell. More like an essence."

Spike sat up and swung his legs over the sarcophagus to face her properly.

"But, your chest- Right over your heart, it-"

"Tried to cut it out."

"Why? I-"

He gave her a dark look, his eyes turning down, unable to look at her.

"Oh." Buffy sat down beside him, unable to think of an appropriate response. "Will you tell me what you had to do to get it?"

"No."

"Even if-"

"Why are you here?"

"To check on you, Spike. You look terrible and you did this-this enormous thing, you can't pretend that it's not. And to- to give you this."

She handed him the bag of blood, which he accepted without thanks. Reaching in, he picked out one of the bags, changed into game face, and punctured it with a fang. With the overdramatic suckling and fierceness behind his feeding, Buffy realized he was trying to repulse her. For someone who expended so much energy in trying to make her to stay, he was trying twice as hard to get her to leave. Well, she could be just as stubborn.

With patience she didn't have, Buffy waited as he gulped down every last drop of blood, tossed the empty bag at her feet, and dove in for a second. Still, she remained seated next to him, calm and composed, keeping an eye on him, concerned, yet oddly satisfied to see him eating. After the third bag, Spike could no longer pretend that he was still hungry.

Ignoring her, Spike laid back down across the stone slab and turned on his side, away from her. Sighing, Buffy stood and disappeared into the lower level of his crypt to deposit the blood into his refrigerator. When she came back up, she could tell he was feigning sleep, but she kept her voice calm, but louder.

"I have to make sure Dawnie gets to school on time, then head to work, but I spoke to Clem and he said he could check in on you sometime in the afternoon, after you've had your rest."

She waited a moment, but he remained unmoving, so she continued.

"I'll be back tonight to pick you up for patrol."

Spike shot up, glaring at her. Buffy offered him an innocent smile.

"Are you off your bird?"

"There's a bird?"

"'M not patrolling with you. 'M still ill."

"You can and you will Spike. I know this change is difficult and that you're struggling, but it's important to get back to your normal routine as much as possible. And to keep company."

"You're one to talk, Slayer. Shutting out all your little friends. Running to me for a bit of cold comfort."

"I think we can both agree that wasn't my healthiest option."

When Spike's shoulders slumped in shame, Buffy softened.

"Look, you and me, we're both messed up, going through sucky things that really suck, but when I first got back, I needed someone to be there, give me tough love, and I never got that. I guess I still need that. I know you tried, Spike, and I know that the soul was just another part of that, but- We shouldn't be sucking by ourselves, so-"

At his widened eyes, she recognized the innuendo in her words.

"Ew, you know what I mean, Spike."

There was a ghost of a smirk on his lips and she couldn't help but return it.

"Go downstairs, sleep in an actual bed, and rest up, because Clem's gonna be even more ruthless than I am. Nothing too strenuous though because me and you, patrol later. I'm allowing no slacking of any kind. I mean it, Buster, get moving."

Buffy waited until Spike and his exasperated muttering disappeared into the darkness of his downstairs. She listened as he puttered around, until she was certain he had settled into bed. Stepping outside into the warm sunshine, she rested for a moment against the door of the crypt. Per usual, he was resisting every comment, but somehow, she knew it would be worth it in the end, however exhausted it made her.

* * *

Spike slapped his pillow around a few times, making a nice dent for himself. It did feel good to have his sheets against bare skin, the softness of the bed against his aching body. He wasn't thrilled by the slayer's determination to butt into his situation, though he could almost laugh at the irony of it all. Get the soul to get the girl, got the soul and couldn't handle the girl. She was a sucker for a lonely, miserable, helpless sap, a la Angelus and even the soldier, so it wasn't a wonder she'd be all over him in his _delicate_ state.

Scoffing, Spike threw the covers over himself and bundled into bed. Later, he'd have a word with Clem about taking orders from bossy bints and he was most certainly not going to go patrolling with said bossy bint, no matter how much she stomped her pretty foot or wagged her pretty finger at him. Despite himself, it was visions of Buffy and her strict, strange kindness aimed at him, the concern flooding her eyes, the passionate fire emanating from her core, so like the woman he used to know before she had died.

Hours later, when Clem had come and gone with his positive and goofy spirit, leaving Spike alone to catch up on his soaps, and the sun had gone down, Buffy marched into the crypt like typical Buffy, grabbed him by the hand and led him outside.

Spike couldn't help but revel in the feeling of her hand in his, as she held on just a little longer than necessary until the first vampire came at them and needed to be turned to dust.


	5. Chapter 5

As much as she tried to convince herself otherwise, Buffy still wanted him. When they patrolled, a week and a half in a row now, despite his initial pattern of pouting, starting the night with a reserved distance between them. As the fighting progressed, there was no denying the attraction. It was as though their bodies were magnetic. Hers would find his and his would seek hers, back-to-back, her high kick, his fist against jaw, he'd hold the vamp steady, then she'd stake it in the heart. Adrenaline rushed through her system and she wanted more, of him and the feelings he stirred in her. When she was with him, she felt more acutely than she did in other facets of her life, and it scared her because it wasn't just passion or hate or even chagrined acceptance. It was messy, complicated, and real. With him, she didn't have to pretend.

In her "real" life, with her "true" friends, she acted the part. They knew she had been ripped from Heaven and was struggling to adjust, but they didn't understand how it affected her. Neither did Spike, she thought, but then, he'd never pretended like he did. He just accepted it, and her, for what she was. To her, he was relief, in a number of ways, and right now, walking back to his crypt, their fingers dangling dangerously close, her heart racing, body thrumming, she wanted that relief in a particular way.

She wondered, for just a moment, how he would react if she acted on that urge. Passion like that did not just fizzle overnight. What they shared, it was powerful, and Buffy was starting to admit, if only to herself, more than cold comfort. But she wasn't willing to consider that idea more. If she were to help Spike, that meant she needed to have some self-control.

Striding up to his crypt, Buffy took focused _,_ deep breaths. She watched as Spike stood in the entryway, shuffling his feet, scratching at the back of his head, and looking nervous. The pout of his bottom lip made her bite down on her own and she took a step forward. _Control be damned,_ she thought.

As if he knew, Spike looked up at her, sudden and alert. A hint of his smirk on his lips, he uttered a quick "Night, Slayer," and shut the door in her face.

 _Well,_ she thought, _thank God for self-control,_ as though she had anything to do with not taking things further tonight.

That almost slip-up aside, Buffy thought they were making progress. At the beginning of the night, Spike would pretend like he wasn't going to join her on patrol, put up a big fuss as though he was being forced into doing her duty, and complain that she ought to stop sending her friends over during the day to check up on him because he was a Big Bad Boy and could take care of himself. Never mind that Tara, Dawn, and Clem, his most frequent visitors, all said that he lit up when any of them visited, taking snacks and blood with them. Buffy lured him out with promises of blood, guts, and gore, and the implication that she thought his skills to be waning, and off they would go into the night, if only for him to prove himself. Lost in his thoughts, Spike would not talk unless prompted, just in the beginning, because once she got him going, it was difficult for him to stop, even though she could see it in his eyes that he wanted to tell himself to shut up. Sometimes, if she wasn't careful, Buffy too would get caught up in her own day and her own thoughts and so neither one of them would say a word almost all night, but somehow that felt alright too. Then they would fight, and Buffy would forget the daily little issues and the really big troubles that made up her daytime life, until it was over and they were covered in dust or slime, and she'd look at him, and those feelings deep in her core would rise, and she'd have to bite her tongue and keep her hands in tight fists by her side, to avoid regressing into terrible, bad, no good habits, like jumping on him and ripping his clothes off. Not that he had ever complained about that aspect, or any really, of their relationship. She wasn't just helping Spike learn how to be good, soulful Spike, but working on herself be good, self-controlled, and careful Buffy of the non-violent variety, except on deserving demons.

Back at home, Buffy found Dawn sitting at the kitchen counter doing her homework, Willow presumably monitoring as she typed on her computer and surrounded herself with textbooks. With a wave and a hello, Buffy stuck her head into the fridge for something edible and very much not made at the Doublemeat Palace, and spent a good long time in the shower. Checking again on a now sleeping Dawn and saying goodnight to a nervous-looking, over-energized Willow still at her computer, Buffy fell into bed, preparing herself to go through the motions all over again tomorrow.

The next day started much like the last, hitting snooze on her alarm clock and stepping out of bed, calling Dawn out of bed, one, two, three times before threatening a more forceful approach, and trying to concoct something nutritious for breakfast. After she was certain Dawn was off to school, she met Willow in the kitchen on her way off to campus, and Buffy flit around the house, doing chores or running necessary errands before changing into her uniform and heading off to work. Behind the counter, she counted down the minutes until she could walk out the door, stop in on Dawn and Willow, and meet Spike at his crypt to coax him out. Even though he was a pain, it was something in which she actually enjoyed because exchanging jibes was kind of their thing and no one else seemed to appreciate her puns or bitter humor so much as he, especially now.

An hour to go until her shift ended, Buffy found herself staring up at Riley Finn from across the counter, looking powerful, put together, and not altogether happy to see her.

"Riley."

"Hiya, Buffy," and that sounded more like the Iowa-bred boy she knew, "I need your help," but then it was back to business, but at least this was somewhat different than usual.

Fortunately, or maybe not because she didn't know the deal yet, Buffy's coverage came in for work early and she was able to sneak off. On the way over to her house, Riley had caught her up on all of the changes in his life, except for the big, _I've got a wife thing,_ until she had almost been knocked over by the equally intimidating, put together woman, who didn't look altogether _un_ happy to be meeting her. There was something about a doctor and some eggs, but Buffy didn't listen so much as act when she saw the large, lumbering demon pursuing them and she chopped off his head. That had, of course, been the wrong thing to do and so she spent the next few hours feeling dumb and ashamed, which were at least feelings if nothing else.

She left Riley and his wife to do their impressive things with their impressive selves and stalked over to Spike's. The vampire, for all his needling and whining that he wanted to be left alone, was found pacing the upper level of his crypt, muttering something about "Slayer does as Slayer wants" and "keep a man waiting until he whittles away into nothing" and "soul be damned," and Buffy found her mood lightening as a giggle escaped her lips. Looking at her, the same panicked, alert expression he so often graced her with now, he tried to come off stern, but sounded more relieved.

"What kept you?"

"You won't like it."

"Alright then," and he sat down on the couch, accepting this.

"Really? 'Alright then?' The old Spike would have-"

"The old Spike wouldn't be sitting around his crypt waiting for you to-" Buffy raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Well, the old _old_ Spike wouldn't have anyway."

"Hmm," Buffy sat down next to him on the couch, still maintaining a healthy distance. "Sometimes I miss him."

"He'd have killed you by now. Consider yourself lucky."

She snorted and he looked at her, exasperated.

With a muttered, "silly bint," he stood and gestured to the door.

"I think we should take a night off actually."

"I've been cooped up here all day. There's got to be something out there to kill."

"Oh, I'm certain there are plenty, but right now, I'd rather just not have to run into the Agents Finn."

"Now I'm curious." He sat back down.

"You said you didn't want to know."

"I lied."

Another sigh, "Riley's back and he brought his wife with him, which whoopty doo for them, but they came asking for my help and then said I did it wrong."

"Kill 'im?"

"Uh huh."

"You forget the Initiative folk like to keep their prey and torture 'em."

"He's not Initiative anymore. I destroyed that, remember?"

"Why are you here then?"

"I just needed to get away for a bit."

"Oh, but of course," he jumped off the couch. "Need your cold comfort direct from the source. Feel bad for yourself, come running to the other miserable in your life. What will it be then?"

"What are you on about?" Buffy stood too, facing him. She could feel her face flushing, not from embarrassment, but the heat of this moment. So close, he was so close, and if she just reached out-

"Fists or fu-"

"Don't finish that sentence, or I swear I'll-"

"What? Stake me?" He stepped even closer and Buffy balled up her fists, her heart racing, heat rushing through her entire body. "Do it. Do me a favor, you will. Won't have to bare this- these- feelings anymore."

And there it was, the soul again. Buffy took two major steps backwards and a deep breath to collect herself. She had wanted him, more so than she ever had, and yet, she couldn't do this to him, not now, not ever. Not like this.

"I'm not looking for anything more than you can offer, okay? Spike? I just- can we watch something? Or just sit here for awhile?"

His expression softened, and for a moment, Buffy fought the inexplicable urge to throw herself in his arms for a far more gentle motive. Instead, she sat back down on the couch and focused on her breathing. After a few long moments, he joined her.

She wasn't sure how much later, but the crypt was surrounded by darkness, even the flickering from the television diminished, when she heard movement and a strained moaning from Spike as he woke. Squinting into the darkness, she saw Riley's shadow looming over them, looking furious, but calm. Awake fully now, Buffy realized that she was lying across the couch, plastered against Spike, though clothed. At some point, they must have fallen asleep, but how they got into this position, she had no idea. Next to her, Spike was softly growling as Riley raised a cross-bow at him.

"Riley," she started, but he remained focused on Spike.

"Want to tell her why I'm here, 'Doctor'?"

Something in Buffy broke. Pushing away, she stumbled off the couch and put as much distance between her and Spike as possible. Somewhere, in the deepest part of her mind, she could hear Spike's denials, could see the betrayal in his eyes and sorrow flickered through her. But all she could allow herself to feel was the numbness, the resignation that no matter how much she tried, how much he appeared to change, he just couldn't break bad habits. And what did that say about her?

"Where are they?" Riley tried again.

"What are you on about?" Spike glared at Riley, then turned his gaze back on her. "Buffy, I-"

"Save it. I won't ask again, nicely. Where are they?"

Buffy found her voice, but it was shaky. "Eggs?"

Riley nodded, but did not break his concentration from Spike.

"Downstairs," she coughed out. "They're probably in the lower level."

She gestured to the familiar hole in the ground and Riley finally looked at her, then to it, as he nodded.

"Then I hope we're not too late."

Spike was shouting at the both of them, Riley was reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out something Buffy didn't recognize, but all she could do was stand there. Her and Spike could do nothing but watch as Riley flicked some kind of trigger and threw the device into the lower level of the crypt.

Legs like jelly, Buffy felt herself roughly pulled out of the crypt by Riley and could see enough only to know that Spike had followed as there was a massive explosion, causing an uproar of dust and grime and chaos.

Something like regret ran through her and she wanted to stay lying on the ground, but instead, she forced herself to sit up, watching as Spike knelt on the ground, eyes wide, staring at his decimated home. Riley coughed behind her, standing, and walking over to the crypt. She followed, needing to see the evidence, needing to know that she had been right to betray him, despite not knowing what Riley had planned.

Buffy refused to think as they burrowed through the wreckage. The upstairs didn't look too destroyed, but the downstairs was a disaster zone. Despite all the broken parts, much of Spike's belongings, of the place she had come to know so well, remained recognizable. Dread filled her, shook her, overtook her, as she broke down into dry, heaving sobs as Riley stood in the middle of the crypt, hands on his hips and a deep frown marring his face.

There was nothing resembling eggs.

* * *

Spike had done a number of terrible things that deserved punishment. He focused on this discouraging, but somehow comforting thought as he curled up under a light blanket on Clem's couch. The worst of it, the punishment had to come when he was trying so hard to repent. Just as he was thinking that with this soul, he might be worth fighting for after all.

His house, everything he owned, destroyed, over something he hadn't done. He didn't know what Captain Cardboard had been seeking, but Spike had never referred to himself as any kind of Doctor, and he definitely never had any eggs.

 _Good to know that Buffy was so quick to think so_ , he thought, as he rolled over and resigned himself to the belief that some things can never be changed.


	6. Chapter 6

On her slow walk home, in bed that night, and later the next day, Buffy kept picturing those two minutes that had brought her to a standstill. Flashes in her brain, the images were haunting and teasing. She hadn't intended for Riley to blow the crypt to pieces. She couldn't have fathomed that his first course of action would have been to attack without checking first because Buffy herself would never have done that. She shouldn't have allowed it, but it just wasn't plausible, and now she was paying the price. In her mind, she fixed it, sorted through hundreds of different options and outcomes that didn't end in disaster. But it didn't matter that she had been in a terrible mood, disoriented from having been woken up, terrified that Spike had resorted back to old tricks, or thrown off by Riley's reappearance. It didn't make things better, for Spike and his crypt, his home, or his reputation and the new dynamic they had been building.

In the aftermath, Riley had stormed off, leaving her to find Spike who stood in the entryway of the crypt, shell-shocked, and looking at her as though she had taken everything away from him. With gentle coaxing, she tried convincing him to follow her back to her house, thinking she owed him shelter at the very least. As she crossed the floor to get to him, offer him some sort of comfort, he turned from her and ran. By the time she made it outside intending to follow, he was gone.

Alarmed, she wondered if that would be the last time she would ever see Spike. It was strange how unsettling that idea felt. Determined that it wouldn't be and that she would somehow fix things, she went home.

She should have told Dawn that morning at breakfast, but the girl had been so chipper lately, she didn't want to spoil her mood when she knew there was nothing they could do at that moment. She should have mentioned it to Willow in the late morning, but her friend was still stuck in frenzy mode, going on about a major test she had that day and Buffy didn't think it good to distract her. She could have called Xander or Anya, but she wasn't interested in receiving applause or disinterest. Clem and Tara were her best options, but Buffy didn't know how to find the demon in the daytime and she felt too ashamed to tell Tara.

It was the knowledge that Spike needed sympathy more than she needed comfort that she found herself standing outside Tara's dorm room. Speaking to her, Buffy refused to meet Tara's eyes because she knew there wouldn't be judgment or hatred, but simply basic understanding of human error. Through it all, Tara didn't speak a word until Buffy finished, and she ended up sharing a lot more than she intended, such as possible, but totally insensible growing feelings for Spike that meant more than cold comfort. In the end, Tara told her it was okay to follow her heart towards what and whoever made her happy because Buffy deserved that and nothing less. They also settled on a locator spell that would at least tell them if Spike was alright and where he was. Knowing that she was not someone he wanted to see at the moment, Tara agreed to go.

Two weeks, a loud and headache-inducing fight with Dawn, more sympathy from Tara, surprising sympathy from Willow, and begrudging sympathy from Xander later, and Buffy had yet to see Spike. Dawn, Tara, and Clem continued to watch after him and assured her that he was doing 'fine,' but wouldn't elaborate on anything more. Before, Buffy had missed their contact and connection through passionate sex and forceful fights, but the longing for his presence, on patrol or sitting on her back porch, turned into a constant dull ache. Guilt battled resignation battled numbness battled resentment battled anger. On top of it all, now she was standing in the dark facing a hyped-up Warren and his two minions. Really, she wanted to smack Jonathan upside the head for all she had done for him in the past and this was how he decided to repay her.

It wasn't even like Spike could have helped her in this particular battle, since the three stooges were human, but he could have stood off in the corner for moral support, offering snide comments about their obvious incompetence issues. Instead, she had Xander, who was in his self-righteous stage, but helped enough to distract Jonathan and the other one as she smashed Warren's weird orb thing. The freak managed to float away on some sort of hover thing, but they managed to capture the other two and when it came to odds, that was a win for Buffy.

She was starting to feel better, having handed off the minions to the police, and was even allowing herself to not think so much about Spike and how badly she had screwed him over when she met Dawn, Willow, and Tara- the latter two who were holding hands - and looking suspicious. As she got closer, a subdued Dawn greeted her, and that freaked her out more than almost anything. Looking at Xander, he shrugged, so she turned back to her sister with a sigh.

"What is it?"

"It's Spike."

A jolt of panic shot through her, causing her arm to twitch into a fist. Xander noticed, but she didn't have time to assure him.

"It's not- He's not hurt, so don't worry. It's just that- See- I know you probably won't go for it, but we had to ask-"

"Dawnie, you're rambling and that is never of the good. Just say it."

"Clem's family's come to visit and he doesn't want to throw Spike out, but there's really no room for him and Spike isn't up for a ton of company right now and I was talking to Tara and Willow and we thought he might be welcome to stay here, with us, in the basement if that's okay because Xander fixed it up real nice and-"

"Yes."

Dawn's mouth shut in shock. "What?"

Buffy sighed. "Yes, he can come here. If he wants. Did he say that's what he wants?" She tried not to look hopeful.

"Well- uh," she looked back at Tara and Willow who nodded in encouragement. "Not exactly. He'd just been complaining about all the people and I thought of the idea, but I wanted to check in with you first because I thought-"

"I'd be terrible and say no."

"Well, yeah, I mean, it's Spike and the two of you-"

"I get it, Dawnie, I do. Just let him know that he's welcome here for as long as he wants. By all of us." She pointedly ignored Xander's exasperated huffing.

"Here's the thing, Buffy."

"Why is there always a thing?"

"We, I mean, Tara, Willow, and I, thought it might be best if you asked him."

Buffy looked at Willow with an eyebrow raised. "You all thought this?"

"Uh huh," Willow answered. "Tara and I had a nice long chat and she helped me see some perspective in a lot of ways."

Tara spoke up with a small smile, "We voted and everything."

Her expression softening, Buffy sighed. "Fine. Tell me where to go and I'll invite Spike to stay with us."

"Oh good! I'll call him now."

Buffy watched as Dawn ran into the house, Tara and Willow behind her, and intended to follow when Xander stopped her.

"Do you really think this is a good idea, Buff?"

"I'm full of them, don't you know?"

He didn't smile at her attempted humor. "I'm just saying, I know you feel guilty about his crypt blowing up, but you don't have to do things that make you feel so uncomfortable. I mean, it's Spike. He'll get over it. Hell, he's caused way more destruction and never thought twice about it, so-"

"I destroyed his home, Xan, I can't just let that go. And he's feeling everything now, with the soul, which he got for me and-"

"Yeah, about that. This soul. You're so certain it's real. And even if it is-"

"It is."

"Fine, it's real. And he got it for you. But don't you think that's a little much? That and then letting him move in? Aren't you kind of leading him on? Buffy, he's had this obsession with you for months now and I think we should be trying harder to discourage it."

"It's more complicated than that, Xan."

"Do you have feelings for him?"

His eyes were so wide and curious, that she couldn't stand lying to him, or any of them any longer.

"I don't- Feelings are hard to define. I haven't had feelings for much of anything lately and- Things happened. I was in a bad place and Spike was there, to comfort me-"

"Of course he was, the scumbag. Waiting for the perfect moment to-"

"I went to him, Xander. He- it made me feel better."

"You slept with him."

"Yes."

It wasn't' a question, but she wanted to provide a definite answer. There was nothing more that she could say as she watched his eyes widen further and flash with betrayal. He took off into the night, but Buffy didn't have the energy to chase after him. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction. Turning back towards the house, Buffy found Tara, Willow, and Dawn staring at her from the doorway. It was hard to read their expressions, but Buffy felt too much relief at no longer keeping the secret. She took a step up onto the porch and Dawn spoke to her.

"I've- I called Spike. He knows we're on our way over."

"Can't this wait 'til morning?"

"Sunlight makes it kinda hard for a vampire to travel. It'd be nice for him to get everything set up so he can just sleep tomorrow. He's been having trouble lately, sleeping, so- And the cot's already set up down there, so he's okay to sleep and-"

"Fine. Lead the way. Right to bed when we get home though. I don't want any trouble."

Dawn skipped ahead, looking excited and Buffy envied her disposition. It had been so long since she had been that carefree that she couldn't even remember a distinct moment. Ahead of her, she watched as Tara broke away from Willow and walked next to Dawn, while Willow held back and waited for Buffy to catch up.

"Intervention Numero Dos?"

"I wish you had told me, Buffy."

"I-"

"But I totally get why you didn't. Why you couldn't. I haven't exactly been the best of best friends lately, what with the overdosage of magic and bringing you back from the dead against your consent."

"Thank you for saying that."

"And I'm kinda glad that you didn't."

"Huh?"

"I don't think I was ready to hear it before, to be supporto-girl. Spike wasn't so high on my list of favorite people, but now- Well, I've been over with Tara a few times to visit with him and he's really not a terrible guy and I sorta feel really bad for him."

Buffy snorted. "Are you giving me your permission?"

"I don't think I have the right to give or deny you permission."

Her eyes were so wide, her words so genuine, and her expression so surprised, Buffy believed her.

"I'll always value your opinion, Will, but, you're right. I don't need permission."

"So are you guys-?"

"It's complicated, God, so complicated and messy and we're both messed up, it's not- It was just sex, for so long, and then it wasn't, but I guess it was always more than that and- And now- I don't know what now, I haven't talked to him in two weeks. I got his home blown up. I'm not used to being the hated one."

"You're offering him a new one now.

"I hope he can see the bright side in all this."

"He will, eventually. He's kinda all mopey guy right now, but he's been lightening up a ton lately."

Buffy allowed herself a small smile. "Good."

"It is good! Everything's getting good again, Buff. And Xander will come around, just wait, no matter what you decide, you know, about Spike."

"And you and Tara-?"

"Of the very good."

The friends walked in silence for the remainder of the trip, but there was a level of comfort that hadn't been present in a long time. Buffy felt tension further break apart. She was nervous about facing Spike after so long, for the first time after what had happened, but she was also determined.

When they reached Clem's house, they found Spike sitting on the front porch smoking a cigarette. By his reaction, it was obvious that Dawn had not mentioned Buffy would be joining them. As the women sat around him, she felt out of place.

"Slayer."

"Spike. Can I- Can I talk to you for a second? Alone?"

"So now she wants to talk."

"Please."

He responded with an undignified grunt, but stood and took off down the street. Following with hurried steps, Buffy forced herself to keep talking.

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't."

"Well I am. I shouldn't have-"

"There's way too many things either of us shouldn't have done, Slayer. Skip the nonsense and spit out what it is you're here for."

"Dawn, Tara, and Willow told me that things were getting crowded at Clem's and we have space and a bed in the basement. They- I thought it might be good if you came to stay with us."

Spike stopped walking, causing Buffy to almost walk into him, and changed direction back to the house.

"Where are you going?"

"Home."

"You don't-"

He stopped again. "You're playing with fire, Slayer."

"I mean it. Will you stay? I know it's not permanent and that you can take care of yourself, but it's the least I can do. And Dawn would never forgive me if we go back and your answer is no. Your stubborn stupidity would be my fault somehow."

Her dig earned her a smirk that sent a pleasant jolt through her stomach. Spike quickly replaced it with a frown.

"The Bit can be convincing with her incessant whining."

"Pssht, you love it." She offered him her most endearing, innocent smile, but he refused to meet her eyes.

"Since you're practically beggin', fine. But only until I sort through everything, and then-"

"Then what?"

"'M skipping town."

"Promises, promises," and though she kept her tone light, inside a flush of panic rose through her. Spike's eyes flashed in surprise, a flicker of a smile on his face, and Buffy thought, _Maybe things really are getting back to the good_.

Quickly pulling himself together, Spike said, "Don't think that this changes anything, Slayer. I'll leave you to yours and you'll leave me to mine."

 _But that has never been the case between us,_ she thought, but she was too tired to argue.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: In this story, I have taken the liberty of switching a few things around in canon. Part of the dialogue in this chapter is also taken from the episode, _Seeing Red._**

Riley had found the eggs in an abandoned warehouse across town. A type of demon Buffy had never heard of was harvesting and planning to use them for some kind of world domination plot. The demon was now in the Finn's custody and that had been the extent of the conversation. Before he had hopped into his helicopter, as though he hadn't just turned her world upside down, again, he had looked at her, eyes and voice full of condescension and told her it was best this way, how things had gone with Spike. She wished she could voice just how wrong everything had gone, but she wasn't certain herself yet. Instead, she told him it was none of his business as Spike was hers to deal with. It wasn't eloquent or quite harsh enough, but he got the point.

Buffy wasn't sure if she should tell Spike about this, how wrong they had been and that Riley would no longer be an issue. She didn't want to keep bringing it up, particularly because he refused to talk about it, or to her, at all. It was something he and Xander shared in common, the shunning of Buffy, until three days later when Xander came stomping into the house, a suspicious smirk on his face, declaring that he was going to be helpful after all, by restoring Spike's crypt. The gesture turned out to be a plot to get Spike out of her house as fast as possible, but he refused to look at her when he offered it, though she didn't miss the surreptitious glances he kept making between her and Spike. In his case, Spike didn't utter a single word, and Buffy wondered what he had planned for his future.

For the most part, the vampire stuck to the basement, even though Dawn had made it clear that he had full reign of the house. Buffy wasn't sure how much more she could do in her efforts to make amends when he was resisting every single one of her peace offerings. She stored a variety of bloods in her fridge, including some that had fallen off the truck from the hospital; bought him the finest sheets of silk that he was accustomed to back in his crypt; allowed him to choose what to watch on TV; invited him out to patrol; and visited him every morning before work and every afternoon when she returned home. They were a long way's off from any kind of normalcy or forgiveness, considering that she had pretty much beaten the soul into him before having been the catalyst that tore his home apart, but she was trying. Wanted to try harder, at the least, and she wished he would be more amenable to that.

Conversation between them always went the same. She'd make a show of turning the knob to the basement and walking down the stairs so he knew she was coming. One of his favorite past times was listening to the CD player Dawn lent him, so she was careful not to sneak up on him. Buffy would stand on the edge of the last step, attempting eye contact and waiting for some kind of invitation that never came.

"Hi Spike."

"Slayer."

"I'm heading to work, is there anything you need before I go?" or "I'm heading off to patrol, any chance you want to join?"

"No, thanks. 'M fine."

"Are you sure?"

He'd look at her, a slight tilt to his head as though he was annoyed.

"Suit yourself."

Buffy would hesitate for two breaths, waiting to see if he might stop her, then when he didn't, she would walk back up the stairs and shut the door.

What worried her the most was his refusal to patrol. It didn't even have to be with her, but she kept waiting for his antsy-ness and the urge to kill something to strike, but as far as she knew, it never did. He had never been good at the sneakiness, so she didn't think he was doing it behind her back. Whether his adamancy was due to his stubborn shunning of Buffy or that the soul had somehow stifled those urges, she wasn't sure. It wasn't like he would answer if she asked.

And wasn't that the worst of it? She had finally opened up to the idea of talking to him, a vampire who, for so long, would not shut up around her about feelings and ideals, and now she wanted to talk, to know and to help, and he refused. Sure, it was her fault, but she was trying. Despite her bruised ego, Buffy would not give up on trying to make amends. She hadn't hated the vampire he was without a soul and she suspected she would tolerate the vampire with a soul that much more, if how Dawn, Tara, and Willow talked about him now was any indication. She even saw Anya make her way out of the basement, traces of laughter left over on her lips as she waved to Buffy and walked out without a word.

That night, Buffy came home earlier than usual after a hell of a day, which was saying a lot considering she lived on the mouth of hell. The house was empty, save for Spike, though she didn't bother to check quite yet. She wasn't sure her temperament could handle another rejection. Work had been chaotic and she had been reprimanded by her supervisor multiple times that day for instances she didn't deserve and then on patrol, a simple fledgling vamp had almost bested her and taken her out with her own stake. In the end, she had managed to knock it out of his hands and dust him, but the cost of it was a major bruise covering her lower body.

Before she faced Spike, Buffy decided to take advantage of a sister and friend-less house and take a long, hot bath. As the water filled the tub and steamed up the bathroom, Buffy rummaged around in her room for her robe. Leaving the door open slightly to allow some of the steam to filter out in order to breathe, Buffy reached down to feel the temperature of the water. Behind her, she heard movement and whipped around to find Spike standing in the doorway, looking alarmed, confused, and apologetic.

"Spike-"

"I- Buf- I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"What are you doing?" She didn't mean for her voice to sound so harsh and she flinched.

"Heard someone come in and- Thought it might be- But then you didn't come down, so-"

"Oh. I- I just needed- Well-" She pointed towards the tub, hoping that would offer enough of an explanation, but at the blank expression, she sighed. "It's been a long day and none of the girls were home, so I thought I'd take advantage."

"Right then," he coughed. "I'll leave you to it." Spike turned to leave.

The warmth of the steam was filling her chest, her head light, and her body sore. Suddenly desperate, she took a step forward.

"Wait-"

He looked back at her.

"I- I've had a bad day."

A raise of an eyebrow.

"A fledgling almost took me out. And work was a bust."

That earned her a hint of a smirk, so she took another step forward.

"A-And," she cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, Spike, I'm so _so_ sorry and I don't know what to do."

"It's fine, Slay-"

"It's not fine. You keep doing these things, trying to help, and I just- I keep tearing them apart and I- There's something wrong with me, Spike. Ever since I came back I-"

"Please don't."

"No, I have to- I have to say this. It's not an excuse. What happened to me, to be treating you this way, but I- I just didn't know- Don't know how to handle any of this anymore. What we had, what we did, it, so much of it was handled just so terribly, but there was good too, and I know you tried, but I just kept pushing you and-"

"It was wild and passionate and dangerous. Burned and consumed us, yeah?"

She could just look at him, both of their eyes rimmed red. She nodded.

"It'll be over soon, Slayer. You'll persevere, always do. Time, Pet. You need time. You don't need to hide anymore. Just let them in and they can help put you back together."

"Spike-"

"Feel it, Buffy. Feel the pain, the anger and sorrow, the harshness of this reality, everything that's happened, the betrayal and the exhaust of it all. Because in the end, all that's left will be exactly what it is that makes you, you, Slayer." He paused, finally finding her eyes and marking her with them. His voice a whisper, she still heard it loud and clear, "Love."

Before she could think or react, he strode away from her. After a moment, she heard the door to the basement click. Turning off the faucet, Buffy stepped into the tub, laid down, and sobbed.

* * *

Despite everything that had happened, how she had treated him these past few months, particularly in the past few weeks, Spike wanted his slayer whole again. He knew it was her when she came through the door, he always knew when it was her. He also knew none of the other birds were home, had gone out for dinner together. They'd invited him, but Buffy wasn't home yet and he didn't feel right about it. Wasn't up for going out anyways. Instead, he stayed in the basement, pacing and worrying over the cause of most of his afflictions. He was funny that way, he knew. But he had noticed a shift in the slayer's attitude lately. Noticed how much she was trying. He still refused her, had to for his own sanity, but observed every little nuance of hers, and so of course he realized. She was sorry and overwhelmed and all those feelings she had been bottling up, usually taking out on him through sex or fighting, no longer had an outlet and so he knew she was ready to burst. He just hoped it led to healthier and happier things.

He had waited a bit for her to come downstairs to see him as she usually did, preparing to play it cold and nonchalant. It never took her long to visit him and since he knew none of the others was home, Spike suspected something different was up. Curiosity had gotten a leg up on him, so when he went upstairs and saw the steam billowing from the bathroom, he couldn't help but be drawn to it. Of course he had said too much. Yet, he knew she still wanted more. He meant every word of it though, that she'd be okay soon, because he was still determined to make it that way. Once Buffy was whole again, she could get closure, and so then could he, and then he would leave. It wasn't exactly what he wanted, but it would be best for them that way. The soul helped him see that.

Spike wasn't sure what would be the catalyst for this life-altering shift back into place, but he could feel something looming. There was a 'calm before the storm' feeling surrounding the place and Spike had lived long enough to recognize the signs. He just hoped the lot of them would realize it and face it together, like they had done so many times in the past, rather than let it rip them apart further.

It took everything he knew about restraint to walk away from her when she was crying, but part of healing, he was realizing himself, was the ability to grieve by your lonesome. Before she could forgive and fall in love again with her friends and family, Buffy needed to make amends with herself, with her existence. That meant embracing the failures and the flaws as much as accepting the strengths. Rather than trying to convince her to be someone else, to do different things like he had pre-soul and like her friends were doing to her, Spike knew now that he needed to help her find herself again. That meant space. But there was progress and soon that would spell relief.

For the first time in a long time, he fell into a soothing sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Some of the dialogue was taken directly from the episode _Seeing Red._**

Buffy woke with an odd sense of relief. She had cried well into the night, staying in the water until it turned cold, then curling up under the covers. At some point, she had run out of tears and sleep had swept over her. She greeted Dawn with pancakes that she didn't burn and saw her off to school on time. Hearing the giggling coming from Willow and Tara's room, Buffy planned on giving them ample space and opportunity to reconnect, thinking that she might be able to convince Spike to get out of the house. Pacing back and forth in the kitchen, hyping herself up to be determined and resilient Buffy, she was intercepted by a bumbling and hesitant Xander coming into the house.

"Hey," his voice was loud against the quiet of the house and she cringed.

"Hi."

"Can we- Uh, can we talk?"

She wanted to tell him no and throw him out of her house. Having experienced some sort of calm the night before, Buffy was in a far more forgiving mood than she might have been had he come earlier. Instead of yelling and hitting him upside the head like she wanted, Buffy decided to give him a chance to speak.

Thinking of the sensitive and most likely topical vampire in the basement and her two happy friends upstairs, Buffy said, "Sure, Xan. Why don't we take this outside?"

It was a beautiful day, a slight breeze, but no chill to the air. Had things been different, she might even have the urge to stop and smell the flowers, but then she was afraid she'd find more hidden cameras when she bent over and the urge died. Settling on the bench, Xander uncharacteristically quiet next to her, she waited for him to start.

"Any sign of Warren?"

She sighed, a niggling worry creeping over her.

"Nope."

"You'll find him. He won't be much good without his friends."

He looked so hopeful and sheepish, she couldn't stay mad.

"No. He won't."

The silence between them grew into one of understanding.

Xander said, "How did we get here?"

"Scenic route. Long drive."

"These last few weeks-"

"I know."

"I thought I hit bottom, but- It hurt. That you didn't trust me enough to tell me about Spike. It hurt."

"I'm sorry. I should have told you."

"Maybe you would have. If I hadn't given you so many reasons to think I'd be an ass about it."

"Guess we've both done a lot of things lately we're not proud of."

"When he disappeared and you thought he was going to be crazy evil and try to kill us all again, I actually got excited. I saw how the two of you- That you'd gotten close and I just, it made me a little crazy. But then he came back and he had the soul. And all of a sudden everyone was so sympathetic and loving him and I had done this terrible thing to Anya. It made me feel things about myself and about him that I didn't like. That maybe human and demon, good and evil, it wasn't all so black and white like I've wanted. That he could actually love and love you so much that he'd alter such a big part of himself-"

He couldn't finish, but Buffy got the point. Reaching an arm around his shoulder, she hugged him as tight as she could, feeling even more tension dissipate. Her mind flickered back to what Willow had said the other night, how things were getting to be of the good again, and warmth surrounded her. Xander and her were back on good terms, better than even before, Willow and Tara were happy again and Willow was off the magic, Dawn was doing well in school and actually listening to her, and that conversation with Spike the night before had seemed to take things in a better direction, made her think they may have a chance to fix things after all.

It was this feeling of relief, but also contentment that circled her stomach and made Buffy realize just how much she had missed that normalcy. It was living, these ups and downs, and she wanted it.

But then Xander's eyes went huge just as she heard movement from behind her. She pushed his body away from her and whipped around, knowing it was Warren before he even spoke. She caught a vision of the barrel of the gun before two shots rang out and life seemed to be draining out of her.

Pain and the threat of loss overtook the contentment, but the core of her still rang strong. She wanted to live and through it, she would fight. Then everything went black.

* * *

Guns had never been Spike's favorite choice of weapon, but he knew well the sound of it. His unbeating heart lay heavy in his chest, feelings of dread and panic rising him from his sleep and out of bed. He was barreling up the stairs at the sound of Willow's screams, and he caught the red-head in his arms before she could start chanting. Instead of the summoning spell he was certain she had in mind, Willow's hair flared black, her eyes matching, and she knocked him across the room as she stormed out the door. Standing, careful not to get too close to the open window, he would have chased after her, except for the sight of his kind, gentle, and loving friend lying on the ground covered in blood.

Dropping to his knees beside her, a scream of rage and pain tore out of his body. He knew it was Warren, but why Tara had been his target, he couldn't fathom. His vampire senses convinced him that Tara still had a hint of a heartbeat, so he tore the comforter from the bed and covered himself with it and bundled her up in his arms. Just as he was rushing out the door, he met a confused Dawn whose smile crumbled from her face.

"What-"

"It wasn't me- Warren, he- I was just-"

"I know."

She put her hand on his shoulder. "You can tell me on the way."

Spike got the three of them into the car and to the hospital. Dawn was shivering in the waiting room, while he tried for the hundredth time to connect with any of the other Scoobies. Deciding that right now Dawn needed his comfort more, Spike settled beside her and didn't allow himself to consider the idea that his friend might be dead.

* * *

Buffy woke to startling lights shining down on her. As her eyes adjusted, the memories of her past few moments of consciousness crashed over her. Xander's widening eyes of panic, Warren, the gun, two shots. Opening her eyes, she saw Willow, but donned in black, from her hair to her eyes staring at her. The expected pain did not come and Buffy realized Willow must have something to do with it. The woman smiled without humor and took off. Sitting up and jumping off the table, she took off after her friend.

They waited for hours. At some point, he forced Dawn to eat and he even contemplated sneaking some blood, but then images of Buffy berating him was enough to snuff his hunger. Speaking of the bint, Spike could not understand why he couldn't get in touch with Buffy or any of the others. He hoped they had at least gone after Willow, someone he kept expecting to arrive at the hospital all wild-eyed and raging. At his most desperate, he even tried to call Giles in England, but had been told the man wasn't even in the country.

Beside him, Dawn was drifting in and out of fitful sleep. Her heavy eyes would close only to burst open again, a panicked moan escaping from her lips as she remembered over and over again what had happened. Spike held an arm around her, to keep her grounded and feeling safe and secure. Despite everything that had happened, he couldn't help but think that if Buffy came, everything else would be all right too.

* * *

She was in the fight of her life and it was against her best friend. Buffy was entrusting the fact that Spike was watching Dawn, and though she knew she should try to contact them, there wasn't time between trying to calm Willow down, hear what Giles had to say, and keep Andrew and Jonathan from escaping or being taken out by Willow.

Warren was already dead, Buffy knew that much. The reason, though never confirmed, was obvious. There had been two shots and Buffy had only taken one bullet. She faced her friend, grief and fear heavy in her heart.

* * *

Morning was an hour away and Spike was starting to feel a little crazed. No one was answering the phone and he half-hoped it was because they were all in a fit of panic over him and Dawn missing. Though he didn't want to leave his friend in this condition, he knew Dawn should get home for her own sanity. He'd take her even if he had to knock her out.

He was considering his best option of doing so when the doctor taking care of Tara walked down the hallway. There was a grim expression on his face and he was muttering something Spike's vampire senses could barely make out. Something about guns being so rare in Sunnydale and yet there had been two instances in just one day. Spike remembered the echoes of two shots, but then the doctor was in front of him, and for the first time in his un-life, he prayed.

* * *

Willow, as she knew her was gone, but right now, Buffy was facing demon after demon, locked away in an underground cave. The witch had incapacitated Anya, thrown Giles down like a rag doll, and sent her to another part of town. As she fought, Buffy thought of her friends, of her sister, and of Spike, hoping and fighting for a chance to see them all again, as whole and as alive as possible.

She was alive, barely, the doctor explained, but growing stronger every second. Had Spike not arrived when he did, Tara would have been dead. It gave him purpose, made him feel not quite as worthless, knowing that she would make it through. He was on one side of her, holding her unconscious, but steady hand, with Dawn on the other. The girl, who looked younger than he had ever seen her, was still sleepy, but looked so relieved, he wished he could take away all of her pain. Too much had happened to this young girl in such a short time, to her and to her sister and their friends, and it overwhelmed him, the magnitude of that loss. It didn't matter then, that Spike would never be deserving of their love, kindness, or friendship. He would not, couldn't leave them, because so long as there was a Hellmouth, there would be trouble for them. But just as always, things had turned out in their favor. Maybe now, seeing what they could have lost, they would come back together. He would never ask or assume more, but he'd be there, in the fight with them, until it killed him. As the tears that had been threatening to spill all night overtook him, Spike thought, _Better me, then them._

* * *

She was fighting, dusting, weaving, and shredding, until suddenly, she wasn't. Back on solid ground, Buffy looked around her. The air that had been swirling with invisible, mysterious, and dark power, stilled. Somehow, but she couldn't understand how, Willow had stopped. She just hoped her friend was as close to herself as possible.

Buffy rushed towards the Magic Box where Giles and Anya were regaining consciousness. They looked worn and beaten, but otherwise okay, and she nearly cried in relief. Andrew and Jonathan were gone, but right then, she couldn't bother to care about their whereabouts. She was about to suggest taking Giles and Anya to the hospital when a limping Xander and forlorn Willow came through the doors. The girl's hair and eyes were back to normal, her powerful demeanor replaced by that of pure grief and shame. Without word, Buffy crossed the store and pulled her into a tight embrace. In time, she would need to hear the story in its entirety, but for now, it could wait.

* * *

With a promise to Dawn that they would return later that day, Spike dragged her from the hospital room, reminding her that neither of them would be alive much longer if they didn't find Buffy and show her that Dawn was fine. They were arguing, in a good-natured and light sort of way, trying to determine the best method for getting home without a blanket for protection to stave off the sun, when the world stopped still.

Before him, coming through the doors of the hospital, looking ragged, exhausted, and frayed, but healthier and so much more like the old version, was his slayer. Both her and the Whelp had an arm around Willow who appeared to be back in her normal state, but far weaker. There was the Watcher, which at least explained his inability to answer the phone, and the Demon-Girl, standing a little bit back from the other three, walking towards him and Dawn, oblivious to the two of them.

Despite the fact that they had obviously been through something as well, Spike couldn't bite back the frustration that swelled in him. He cleared his throat and watched as Buffy finally looked up and noticed him. The group stopped, mere feet away, and he tore into them.

"It's about bloody time the lot of you showed up. The Bit and I have been waiting here, all night and through the day, trying to connect with you and- The poor chit is in her hospital bed, unconscious and alone, fighting for her life and you all walk in like you have time to kill. Well, let me tell you-"

"Spike-"

It was Dawn's hand on his shoulder that stopped him and forced him to look back at Buffy, her eyes wide and confused.

"Well?" He gestured behind him, down the long hallway. "What are you waiting for? It'd be nice for the girl to have a familiar face to look at when she wakes up."

Buffy's voice was barely a whisper. "Who?"

Spike rolled his eyes, but kept the sarcasm out of his voice. "Who d'you think? Who's the only one of us not standing here wasting time? She's fine. Still asleep, mind you, but fine." Spike sighed dramatically at their incompetence. "Tara."

Willow sagged between Buffy and Xander, the latter who caught her in his arms and held her tight. Legs moving of their own accord, Buffy found herself in Spike's surprised, but open arms, holding him tight as hope, love, and wonder flared through her.


	9. Chapter 9

Three weeks had passed since Buffy thought the world would end at the hands of her very best friend. Giles had taken a healing Willow and Tara with him back to England where he thought a local, powerful, but peaceful coven and the fresh air of the countryside would be beneficial to them. Thanks to the doctors, all-natural therapeutic remedies, and Spike's fast actions, Tara was making a quick, full recovery and was cleared to fly.

The rest of them were still in the process of emotional recovery, though there was a lightness surrounding the group as summer began. Dawn was attending summer school, with only a little pushback; Xander was determined to be the beacon of hope and positivity and was even being kinder to Spike; Anya disappeared every so often but was talking more frequently to the group, including Xander, and still running a successful store; and Buffy herself felt the heaviness of her depression lifting. From Dawn, she knew that Spike was getting better too, and though he was talking to her more, there was never a mention of the soul or his feelings. He maintained safe and respectful distance from her.

He still spent a great deal of time downstairs in the basement, but more often, she was finding him cooped up in her living room and hogging the TV, yelling at the characters as though they could hear him and leaving his empty blood bags for her to pick up. The idiot needed to get out of the house and though she had been patient and kind to him these past few weeks, it was wearing down.

After work, she came home to find Spike, Dawn, and Xander- the traitor- camped out in front of the TV playing some kind of video game. Thumping back down the stairs after making a quick change, she stood in the entryway and cleared her throat. None of them turned around or paid her any attention. She walked over to the front of the TV, took the controller out of Xander's hands and paused the game.

"Xand?"

"Uh huh?"

"Could you watch Dawnie tonight?"

"Sure thing, Buffster."

"Dawnie?"

"Yup?"

"Get your homework done. I don't want to hear any more stories about how you talked Xander out of it. And the two of you, eat something other than pizza. Please?"

"Yeah huh."

"Spike?"

"Slayer?"

"Get up." She flung the remote at him. "We're patrolling."

She waited a moment at the door, fully expecting him to remain sitting and to have to put in more effort, but was surprised to find him right behind her, shrugging on his duster. Without a word, he opened the door, waited for her to walk through, followed, and closed it behind him.

 _Huh._

Buffy was starting to miss the rapport between them. He may have had a twisted way of looking at the world, but he still managed to charm her as much as annoy her and had at the very least, been entertaining. Conversation was easy between them, whether they were arguing or talking strategy. When words failed, she used to be able to use violence instead, punching him in the nose, nudging him with her shoulder, or giving him a nice kick in the rear, but now they were both cautious of any physical contact. She frowned, thinking more about it, and realized that she didn't want to resort to violence. During their affair, and when she hadn't been paying enough attention, Spike could be gentle and sweet, holding her hand, nuzzling her neck, or grazing his fingers over her body. She hadn't been in a position to appreciate it then, but now, she felt the loss of it.

What she really wanted, and needed now, was his friendship, but she didn't know how to ask for it. She'd have to settle for the roundabout way and try to show him.

"Hey, Spike?"

"Slayer?"

"Call me Buffy."

"Fine, Buffy."

"Never mind."

"What?"

"Don't call me that, it sounds weird when you say it."

She thought she heard him scoff, but he said, "Alright, Pet."

"Don't do that either."

"Bloody hell," he drew in a sharp breath. "What are you on about?"

"I don't like it when you just take it. Push back. It's more fun."

His response was to arch his scarred eyebrow at her, but he looked amused. Warmth spreading through her, she continued walking and trying to think of the best way to engage him.

"Spike?"

"Bugger it. What?"

"How's everything with the so-"

But she wasn't able to finish her sentence because they spotted a group of vampires convening up ahead and they were forced to get into attack mode. She couldn't deny that her heart thumped louder when she crouched down close to Spike and he looked at her, an odd sideways glance that was more considering and suggestive than she'd seen in a long time, and she cursed the vampires for not allowing her to pursue that. Instead, he grinned, a smile that actually met his eyes, and leaped into the fray. Beaming, Buffy wasn't far behind him.

Hours later, her and Spike sat on her couch having said goodnight to a suspicious, yet not altogether spiteful looking Xander who left for his apartment and Dawn who crawled upstairs. After a few minutes of sitting in silence, Spike picked up the deck of cards left behind by Xander and Dawn and started shuffling them. Still high on adrenaline and feeling just a little bit silly, Buffy stole the cards from his hand and started dealing.

"What's the game?"

Fixing him with her fiercest, most threatening glare, she said, "Go Fish."

Another smirk, and now she was determined to start keeping count.

They played until a touch of sunlight began creeping out from behind the moon and Buffy yawned, looking at the clock. They had gone from 'Go Fish' to 'Poker' and more fittingly, 'War,' laughing and talking quietly. Thankfully, it was a Saturday so she could sleep in, but she wasn't quite ready to call it a night. Despite herself, she enjoyed spending time with Spike and since it came so irregularly now, she wanted to take advantage. Him and his damn vampire senses, however, did not miss the yawn. With a dramatic stretch, he grabbed the cards from her hands and tossed the pile onto the table.

"Off to bed with you, Slayer."

"Don't wanna," but she couldn't help but relax against the cushion of the couch and rest her eyes.

"I demand it, _Buffy._ "

She cracked an eye open to inspect him, planning on glaring at him, but his eyes were shining and he looked so damned charming, youthful, and handsome, her heart stopped.

 _Uh oh_.

"Yeah, yeah."

Forcing herself off the couch and away from him, she slumped over to the stairs. Before heading up, she turned back around and fixed him with a sleepy grin.

"Night, Spike."

Without a word, he offered her another smile and a bit of a wave, then crossed the living room and started towards the kitchen. Buffy waited at the bottom of the stairs until he was gone from view and she heard the click of the basement door shut.

* * *

What once felt like a chore, was now the best part of her day. It was funny how passionate she could be about slaying when there was someone with her, in the thick of the battle, who understood the fight, that spark. The companionship was something she thought she might share with Faith back when the girl had first been called and before everything had crumbled, but it was another level with Spike. With a viable partner, Buffy could get in her zone and not have to worry about what the others were doing, but he was also there with her, tracking her every move and following up with one of his own. She wasn't alone and the idea alone was freeing.

Spike wasn't as serious anymore, though he did have his moments of soulful silence where she could watch the inner turmoil brew. Through the weeks, Buffy was learning to read his moods and how to react. When his eyes were flashing, she knew the thoughts were darker and she allowed him to retreat into the basement or the darkness of the night. If he was fidgety or pacing, she put him to work with various chores that he complained about in a way that gave him great joy. Tense shoulders meant he needed to curl up on the couch and watch his soaps, and at the first sign of snark, she'd let him talk at her until his rantings turned into concerns, insecurities, guilt and regrets and he'd talk to her.

He was in a particularly playful mood when she got home from work and found that Dawn had gone to Janice's for the night. There was no time to address the nerves bubbling in her stomach at the idea of being home alone with Spike because he was waiting for her at the door, itching to get out. She laughed and told him he could have gone out without her at the first sign of sundown, but he'd just given her this pointed look that suggested she was crazy for even saying it, and it was oddly touching.

It was a cooler night in August when the days had generally been muggy and hot and suffocating, but now that the air was swirling, everything felt lighter. Vampires and demons of the Hellmouth must have been turned off by it for whatever reason though because they remained absent throughout their evening and she watched as the playfulness started to change to something a little more ominous. Without the benefit of sewer access, Spike was more frequently cooped up in the house and the vampire had energy to burn. Buffy was trying to determine the best course of action, when her foot caught on something on the ground and she barreled over into the grass. Her confusion grew as she looked up into the smirking face of Spike hovering over her.

"Wha-?"

"Wanna play? _Slayer?"_

Panic swelled through her, more at the idea that she had misinterpreted his mood, but then she found his eyes and she saw the lightness emerging. That was all he was doing, playing.

 _It does take two._

In response, she lifted her foot in an effort to knock him down at the knees, but he caught her leg. Using that momentum, she thrust herself up, jabbing him in the shoulder and coming to a standing position. His smile widening, Spike came at her, his punches skilled and pointed, but not deadly. Buffy met him blow-for-blow, their sparring as natural and as matched to the other as if they were fighting on the same side, but she supposed in a way, they still were.

Sweat was dripping unlike it had in a long while and she wondered why it had taken them so long to reach this point. Spike was a gifted fighter who had years of experience and practical knowledge Giles could not have dreamed, and she had already learned a lot from him without a specific lesson. Leaping into the air, she caught him against the chest with her heel and sat on him, a wide smile of victory covering her face, as she looked down at him. Her arm raised to deliver the final, devastating blow, with a jolt, Buffy remembered exactly why they didn't do this, the violence thing anymore.

They were back in the alley, Buffy blinded and broken, pounding fist into flesh and Spike beneath her bloodied and beaten, taking it. She froze, her hand finding his face in a gentler, more possessive way as she rubbed his cheek. At her touch, he closed his eyes, but they flickered open again in confusion. There was no fear there, she could see that, and it comforted her, but she still felt the guilt ebbing.

"Spike, I-"

She swallowed her words, not knowing what to say. He smiled at her then and she choked back a sob, but then she was rolled over and he was on top, the smirk back and as devious as ever.

"Not like you to let your guard down, Slayer."

"Yeah, well-"

"It's fine, yeah? Me 'n you, this thing. Was different, not like before."

Looking at him, Buffy could tell that he meant it, but still, she felt like she needed to say it, for him to hear it.

"I am sorry for- For what I did- Hurting you. It wasn't right and I'm sorry."

"Not saying it was fun, but it was different then. I was your outlet, the Big Bad secret, through the good and the bad."

"I'm not that person anymore, Spike."

It was a whisper, said more like a question than she intended, and it startled her, how much she wanted his approval.

"And 'm not that vampire."

Eyes wide, she nodded, allowing the guilt and regret to seep away and be replaced by a sense of relief and forgiveness. At his expression, so serious in an almost pompous manner, she couldn't help but burst out laughing. Scoffing, he pulled away, muttering about silly bints.

"What exactly are you giggling at?"

"I'm sorry, but," she tried to breathe. "The two of us, getting along like this, it's almost too much."

Spike pulled away completely and shot up, putting space between them. Just like that he was self-defensive, insecure vampire again. Buffy did take a moment to breathe this time to collect herself. Putting her hands up, as if to say, _I come in peace,_ Buffy walked over to him and took one of his hands in hers, guiding him to start walking.

"I didn't say it's bad, Spike. Just weird in kinda a really good way."

He only grunted his approval, but sneaking a sideways glance at him, she didn't miss the smile that brightened his face or the way his shoulders relaxed. Now she had to make sure he didn't realize just how good she was getting at reading him. He might think it was a thing.

* * *

She was learning to read him and it was becoming a thing. It was unsettling, this Buffy, so he supposed she was right in that way. When he'd first realized he loved her, he hated himself for it. His love for her, she, changed him and he fought it for so long, even when he admitted to his feelings. When she had first come back from the dead, so vulnerable and lost, coming to him when she couldn't anyone else, it startled him. As a man, he'd been bumbling and awkward, so un-attuned to his own emotions and life, never mind someone else's. After he was turned, he didn't have to handle anything particularly uncomfortable, excepting Drusilla, because he could just kill or destroy whatever got in his way. When faced with the opportunity of getting a chance to make a better impression on Buffy, Spike resorted to old, easier habits and tried to drag her down with him. He didn't realize, until it was too late, that he was meant to be brought into the light with her, and through that, they could both heal.

Though he supposed now, with things calmer, lighter, and more hopeful, maybe it wasn't too late after all. The chit was happy, all glowing as she accustomed to this new normal. It could be difficult to find inspiration and the will to live in the mundane, but the spark in her returned. And he had forgiven her, for taking advantage of him and for that night in the alley, and the way she held his hand now, walking him home with her, rambling on about gossip between co-workers, he realized that she had finally forgiven herself.

It didn't mean anything more than what it was. The old Spike might have viewed this opportunity as a crumb, but this one refused to pretend like anything more than friendship between him and Buffy would be burgeoning. Unlike the Ponce, he didn't think it was because he was unworthy or bad for her. He knew that and he'd still go for it anyways if he thought that was what she wanted. What mattered was how he tried and just the idea of being her friend was motivation enough.

But he was still fragile and healing, as was she, and he no longer found it important to jump ahead when what was happening now was beautiful and real and significant. They had patrolling, talking, and now sparring, and for now, that would do.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Some of the dialogue and plot was taken directly from the season 7 episode 'Lessons.'**

It felt weird to be sending her little sister off towards the place she destroyed. Though false memories clouded her mind, they all still felt real and meaningful, and it was hard to believe that Dawn was now in high school. The girl was excited, but Buffy couldn't stave off the dread building in her stomach. Something, and she admitted it could be remnants of her own high school experience, was making her instincts heighten and she had a bad feeling in the days leading up to Dawn's first day.

Standing in front of her now, the school looming behind, Buffy didn't want to let go. Even Spike had made fun of her the night before for getting teary eyed over it and though Dawn pretended to be humiliated by such a display of emotion, the girl couldn't help but be thrilled that Buffy was exhibiting such strong emotion in the first place. Now, however, in fear of being seen by her friends and those who she wanted to befriend, she was having none of it. Breaking out of Buffy's death grip, Dawn gave one last cheery wave and disappeared into the high school.

Buffy would have left had the principal not approached the two of them earlier, and assumed she was Dawn's mother. A guy that blind must be evil. The fact that he appeared to know of her didn't help his cause either. A place did not just happen to exist over a Hellmouth and not have wacky things happen. The new, too-young seeming principal seemed to be a good culprit of evil. Instead of going home like she should have, she waited until Dawn entered the building and followed.

Seeing Dawn slip around the corner, Buffy started the opposite way. She just wanted to check out a few things and her sister didn't need to know she was bearing on slightly overprotective. On patrol the night before, Spike had mentioned sneaking in and getting a look around then, but Buffy hadn't wanted to risk being caught, if only for Dawn's sake. After a stop in the bathroom to confirm that she didn't have 'mom hair' turned into some sort of ghost fest, she sprinted down the hallway to find an embarrassed Dawn sitting in class. She had left, only to tell Spike what had happened, but he hadn't been home and Buffy didn't want to wait, so she headed back to the high school.

The probably evil principal had stopped her and she considered questioning him further to check his evil factor, but when her phone rang and she saw it was Dawn, her attention wandered. Now she was in the basement, being attacked by angry, corporeal ghost-like people and unable to find her sister.

A voice, an echoing whisper in the eerie quiet drew her to the boiler room. It was familiar, she realized, as a tingling crept over the back of her neck and she knew who it was. Relief settled over her, realizing where Spike had decided to go for the day and she snickered, thinking of how much crap she was going to give him for mocking her the night before when he clearly couldn't contain his own nerves, when she found him mumbling in the corner to himself.

"Spike?"

He didn't answer, so she walked quickly over to him, placing her hand on his shoulder. When he turned, she blanched at his clouded eyes, but he shook his head and his expression cleared to one of confusion.

"Buffy?"

"What- What's going on?"

"Don't know, I- I came to the high school to check things out. Didn't have a good feeling and then-"

She waited for him to continue, but he didn't, so she tried to prod him.

"Then, what?"

"I don't know."

Spike leaned against the wall, looking away from her and frowning. The old Buffy would have attempted to shake him out of it in her impatience and frustration, but the new and improved version wanted to comfort him. Lifting her hand, she tried to think of the right words to say, when she heard a scream and they both took off after it.

* * *

Spike fought alongside Buffy, Dawn, and the chit's new friends, but as soon as everything settled and Buffy went to comfort her sister, the dread and confusion returned. He hadn't been lying when he said he didn't know what had happened. One second, he was surveying the high school and next thing he knew, he had fallen into a trance of sorts.

Buffy looked back at him as she led the group back up the stairs to safety, saying she would meet him back at home. He wanted to ask her to stay, to go back home with him through the sewers once she got her sister settled, but the words wouldn't leave his lips. With a shiver of unease, Spike made his way back through the basement to make his escape when he found Warren, the bastard who had almost done in Tara standing before him. That Willow had killed him did not cross Spike's mind as he was too consumed with anger. Charging at him, chip be damned, Spike cursed when he ran right through him and busted into the wall. Behind him, incorporeal Warren laughed. Spike turned back, vampire visage out, and glared.

"What are you?"

Warren said, "I'm beyond your understanding. More than flesh-"

Spike blinked and the man turned into Glory.

She said, "More than blood. I'm- You know, I honestly don't think there's a human word fabulous enough for me. Oh, my name will be on everyone's lips, assuming their lips haven't been torn off. But not just yet. That's alright though-"

Now Adam: "I can be patient. Everything is well within parameters. She's exactly where I want her to be. And so are you, Number 17. You're right where you belong."

The Mayor said, "So what'd you think? You'd get your soul back and everything'd be Jim Dandy? Soul's slipperier than a greased weasel. Why do you think I sold mine? Well, you probably thought you'd be your own man, and I respect that, but-"

Spike flinched, seeing Drusilla, who purred at him: "You never will. You'll always be mine. You'll always be in the dark with me, singing our little songs. You like our little songs, don't you? You've always liked them, right from the beginning. And that's where we're going-"

The Master faced him now, as ugly and as threatening as he remembered. He said, "Right back to the beginning. Not the Bang- Not the Word- The true beginning. The next few months are going to be quite a ride. And I think we're all going to learn something about ourselves in the process. You'll learn you're a pathetic schmuck, if it hasn't sunk in already. Look at you. Trying to do what's right, just like her. You still don't get it. It's not about right, not about wrong-"

As it shifted into the Slayer, Spike couldn't help but stare transfixed. He'd never seen her quite as intimidating. She looked at him, her eyes fierce, and when she spoke, her voice took him back to those darker months they shared when she was scared and cruel.

"It's about power."

The thing, whatever it was, exploded into dust and Spike took off running. He didn't stop as the walls of the school changed into the grimy ones of the sewers, pausing only briefly to pick up the blanket he'd left as he burst into the sunlight and stampeded back into the Summers' home, Buffy looking up at him, startled, from where she stood at the kitchen counter.

"What the-"

The blanket dropped at his feet and he went to her, his fingers reaching out to brush her cheek just to confirm that she was real. Instead of the flinch he expected, she leaned into it, only for a moment as she looked at him in confusion.

She tried again, "Are you alright?"

"There's something wrong."

"I'll say. You look like you've seen a ghost."

She wasn't wrong. In a way, he had, too many of them.

"I mean it, Buffy, there's something in that high school. It's not right."

"I noticed," she smiled. "I was there with you, remember? Taking down the baddies."

"No, I- I mean, after you left. It was- I don't bloody know what it was."

Buffy frowned as he stopped and looked away from her. They were both suddenly aware of their proximity and the intensity with which they were looking at each other.

"What did you see, Spike? Did something attack you?"

"Couldn't. They were- Incorporeal or something, but they looked so real."

"What did?"

"All of 'em."

"I-"

Spike opened his mouth to tell her everything, but he noticed the speed of her heart beat, the way she was looking at him, and he didn't want her to fear him, to think he'd lost it. She'd already found him in the basement moaning to himself.

"Was nothing."

"But- You're obviously shaken up about it, so let's talk."

"Later, then. I just- I need a moment, Slayer."

Before she could protest, he crossed the kitchen to the basement door, shut it behind him, bombed down the stairs, and sprawled out on his cot. She had been good about respecting his boundaries and he'd been so caught up in his own thoughts that Spike didn't realize she followed him down the stairs until he looked up to find her glaring at him.

Sitting up, he looked at her, finding that fierceness in her gaze. She lifted her hand and he expected a jab, but instead, she took his hand and sat next to him. Rather than the cruel tone that had lashed out at him in the school basement, she spoke in a calming whisper that he couldn't deny.

"Tell me."

So he did, and hoped she didn't kick him out of the house after the fact.

* * *

So much for thinking the high school badness could be chocked up to a few angry ghost-men. She would be lying if she said what Spike had told her hadn't freaked her out, because it did, to the max. He couldn't look at her as he spewed the words out, thinking hard as though trying to remember every vivid detail and word, but when he finished, he looked at her, a brave expression on his face, daring her to question him.

He didn't ask her what she thought it all meant because they both knew neither had a clue. It was the sort of thing Giles would devour, had he been there, and she knew she would have to call him later, force Spike to rehash it again, but right now, she couldn't be so cruel. His hand in hers was trembling.

That it happened to Spike, her bold and pompous fighting partner, unsettled her more. Whatever it was had shaken him without touch. Spike, though a stellar fighter, was prone to be taken down more easily with words, but she knew it was more than his insecurities. There was something out there, after her and after him, as was so frequently the case. That it was waiting in the high school, she almost laughed, because of course. If it were going back to the beginning then, that was her beginning.

Buffy felt Spike's hand slip from hers as he drifted into sleep. She smirked, watching as his head hit the pillow, but when she tried to get up, he grumbled and reached out to her. Lying down beside him, she turned so that she was facing him. Watching him, she couldn't help but accept the fear rising in her at this new threat and all the unknown that came with it. But there was also this warmth she couldn't define.

In time, a plan of action would have to be outlined. Buffy would have to put on her ultimate warrior pants and face whatever it was that was brewing. And despite the sullen and vulnerable vampire who lay beside her now, she knew, still gripping hands, somehow, it would be easier, they would be better, because they were fighting together.

Whether it had the power of Glory, Adam, the Master, or all of them combined, or if it turned into a smoke screen of nothing at all. Buffy couldn't help but think she had a better team: two powerful and trained witches who would soon be on their way home, a studious and daring Watcher, a thousand year-old demon who had seen and done it all, a mere mortal with the heart and bravery of a hero, an age-old mystical key, and a vampire with the fight of a demon and the heart of a man. And her, because Buffy was learning, she couldn't underestimate her powers, not when the world waited for her to save it.

From her spot, she heard the front door open and slam shut and footsteps thunder against the ceiling. Wanting to allow Spike his rest, Buffy sighed and got up from her spot, and met Dawn in the kitchen, who was apparently over the entire incident from earlier and ready to regal her with tales of the mundane high school experience.

Her refractory period really was something to admire.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Some of the dialogue and plot was taken directly from the season 7 episode 'Beneath You.'**

Buffy woke from her dream, a scream dying on her lips, as she squinted in the darkness to find Dawn and Spike standing over the bed. A chill ran through her, both at the dream and the way Spike was looking at her, the intensity and concern almost too much.

Since their chat in the basement, Spike started to turn away from her again. Buffy thought they had been making progress, but his moods often turned into brooding, which he preferred to do in solitude. He'd either lock himself away in the basement or head out into the night, even after patrolling. Sometimes, if she listened closely enough, she thought she heard him muttering to himself and a few times, she caught him pacing, but he made it clear that he needed privacy and she didn't want to make him leave.

She missed his presence, even just knowing he was downstairs or coming home, joining her on patrol or taking over the TV, making dinner and helping Dawn with homework. Now finding herself under his gaze, and in this position, she felt her cheeks flush hot, wondering how to explain.

The dream came back to her then, the young girl running in the dark night, the voice speaking to her. It had sounded so familiar, those suspicious tingles were creeping over her, and she realized where she had heard it before.

"From beneath you it devours-"

Spike startled, looking between her and Dawn with wide, panicky eyes.

"It's what you said those things said to you when-"

"Niblet, big sis is fine, you should get to bed."

Dawn turned her doe eyes on him. "But-"

"Just a dream, yeah?"

He was aiming for casual, but Buffy sensed the conspirator in him and Dawn wasn't fooled either. She tried her luck with Buffy.

"Beneath you what devours the what?"

"Haven't a clue," Buffy shrugged. "It was probably nothing. Just a dream like Spike-"

"But you said Spike heard it too. And your dreams are never just dreamy dreams."

"'T's nothin' we'll figure out at three in the morning, Bit. Head to bed, you've both got school in the morning."

"Speaking of three in the morning," her big eyes zeroed in on him again, this time without a trace of innocence. "What were you doing at this hour? I heard the door slam as you raced upstairs."

"'M a vampire, Pet, and don't you forget it. Creature of the night and all that rot."

Amused, Buffy watched as her sister and vampire engaged in a staring contest she was glad not to have been included. They could both be stubborn and ruthless, but then again, so could she. Buffy allowed it to continue for a few moments before she opened her mouth to break it up, but was cut off by Dawn's dramatic sigh.

"Fine. I'll leave, but we'll be going over it again tomorrow." She started to walk out of the room, but stopped halfway out the door and faced them with a smirk. "I'll let the two of you be alone."

Spike opened his mouth to protest, but stopped when he realized Buffy wasn't chiming in with one of her own. A slight blush crept over her face again, but she didn't look altogether displeased. With or without the soul, he wanted to explore that, but right now, he was too freaked.

"What exactly were you doing out there so late?"

"That's what you want to discuss right now?"

Chagrined, she pouted and looked up at him, having a go at Dawn's doe-eyed tactic and hoping for better results. Thrilled, she watched as Spike's tense body softened, but noticed his eyes remained firm as he looked back at her.

"Fine, go do your Big Bad things in your Big Bad way. Just remember I'm the Slayer and will take you out if I have to."

She intended it to be a joke, but his expression remained serious.

"I'm banking on it."

"Spike-"

"What happened in the dream? Tell me exactly."

"Geez, gimme a minute, Mr. Serious. Like I told you and Dawn, there was a girl being chased, but then these shadowy guys came into the mix, killed her, but then she spoke, those words you said before-"

"From beneath you, it devours."

"Yeah, but that's it- Spike, would you calm down for a sec?"

Buffy let the sheet slip as she jumped up and latched onto Spike's shoulder. The vampire was grumbling to himself, trying to pace in the small space between the wall and her bed, grabbing at his hair. He stilled under her touch, so she guided him down to sit on the bed, one hand remaining on his shoulder, the other at the base of his neck where the curls were fraying from the gel.

"'M not crazy," he muttered as he looked at her, his eyes a shocking blue, wild, almost pleading rather than telling her.

Her voice caught in her throat a moment too long and he twisted her lack of answer into something ominous. Pulling away from her, he jumped up, began his pacing, and repeated, "'M not crazy. 'M not- not crazy. I am not crazy-"

Spike froze, stopping Buffy from shifting off the bed to catch him, and looked at her, his wild eyes calmer, but fiercer.

"Am I crazy?"

This time, she didn't hesitate as she stumbled off the mattress and took his hand.

"You are not crazy. There is something going on here that's not right-" she tightened her grip as he flinched and tried to shove away from her. "But it's not you."

"'M the only one seeing dead people."

"In front of you maybe. But I'm seeing them in my dreams, so if you're crazy, then maybe I'm crazy too."

They stood still for awhile, Spike shifting his gaze out the window, seeming to seek something in the night that didn't exist. Waiting until she was certain he wouldn't go berserk again, Buffy encouraged him to sit back down on the bed, still holding his hand.

Carefully, she pulled away and slid her hand up his back, grazing soothing circles as her fingertips swept over him, resting again at the curls at his neck.

"I see them, you know?" His voice was barely a whisper. "The Slayers I killed before, all the people I- They come to me, spitting and hissing words, coming so close, but never touching and I- But I deserve it, I know. Sometimes it's Dru too, she'll start off saying these sweet words, words I always wanted, but she never- And you-"

She flinched, but waited for him to continue, knowing he needed to confide in her.

"It wasn't just that once in the school basement. It's downstairs, at Willy's, in my crypt when I went to see what the Whelp did with it. 'M afraid it's doing something to me, Buffy. There are times I can't remember, when I don't know- I'll be out, on a walk, patrolling, then my mind'll go all fuzzy and suddenly I'm outside standing on the porch. So I'll ask again, am I crazy?"

"Whatever is happening, it's not you doing it, Spike. Remember that, okay? I'm- I'm glad you told me this, so that we can face it. Together, okay?"

Resting her head on his shoulder, after a few minutes, Buffy sensed him relax. She was about to suggest they lie down when he stood up abruptly, almost knocking her over. Preparing for him to go into another rampage, she jumped up, but was surprised to find him looking at her, a little grin on his lips, and totally normal.

"Off to bed now, yeah? You've got your new job tomorrow?"

"But, I-"

"Good luck, Slayer. You don't usually need it, but, teenagers-"

Spike walked out of the room, shaking his head, a small and tired laugh echoing in his wake.

* * *

Buffy had a busy morning convincing Dawn that she would try her best not to embarrass her, setting up her desk, trying to get a sense of Principal Wood, and waiting for the zero students coming into the office seeking guidance. The afternoon was spent prepping Xander for his big normal-girl date and talking Anya down from any major Vengeance Demon happenings. Thus far, the girl hadn't done anything too incriminating to warrant destruction, and Buffy was grateful, but the demon side definitely lingered on the grey areas. But then Xander didn't like the Vengeance Demon thing at all and Anya didn't like the idea of him dating, so instead, they settled on a temporary impasse as they both tried to figure out what they did want from the other.

Having Xander to keep an eye on Dawn, making sure her sister finished her homework, ate dinner, and went to bed at a decent hour, Buffy intended to go off on a quick patrol before indulging in a long, hot bath. The demon population seemed to be as tired as she felt and there was minimal action. Realizing that she hadn't seen Spike all day and still worried from the night before, she started home to see if she could continue the conversation.

She got home in time to find the vampire in question coming out the door, walking right past her without a word. Annoyed, Buffy opened her mouth to call out a witty insult at him, but her slayer instincts kicked in, noticing the way he was mumbling and didn't seem aware of his surroundings or what he was doing. Chilled, Buffy followed behind him, not exactly inconspicuous, but Spike didn't notice.

They walked for a long time, no clear direction and not meeting anyone on the way. When he started moving up the path to the church, Buffy hesitated, but followed as soon as she heard the doors creak and Spike disappeared inside.

Stepping inside, she found him kneeling on the pew. She reached out to him, not knowing her intentions, but his voice cut her off.

" _I figured it out. Took awhile, yeah, but- I think the real problem is- I was once this really nice guy_."

Alarmed, Buffy tried to break him from the reverie with a punch of humor.

" _So that's the problem. Got news, Spike. You're not that nice._ "

He laughed, his voice lacking humor.

" _Yeah. I've been- Well come on, let's face it, been a one-man slaughterhouse, last hundred years. Murdering. And for what? Kicks_."

Still he wouldn't look at her, and though it was obvious he was speaking to her, Buffy wasn't certain Spike registered that she was there with him.

He continued, " _William the Bloody awful poet, skipping down the lane- Good boy, bad boy, all the sodding same. You like it? Wrote that one myself. Is it hot enough in here to burn all your mortal sins away_?"

Spike paused for so long, Buffy thought it might be safe to interrupt, but he shot up and stepped into the aisle.

" _Or am I just crazy? Stuffy. Stuffed. Full, packed, sorry mate, no room, out you go, we're packed to the bloody brim, standing room only and no room for that. We-Are-Full. Full of sin. Full of guilt. Full of hate and love and loss and feeling. Full of it, quite frankly and it's been so long since we felt anything here. Rusty switchboard, sparked to life, bound to be more'n a few sharp shocks._ "

Shaking now, Buffy pulled the stake from her pocket, more to use as a threat in a case of emergency than anything else, and followed as Spike made his way down the aisle. His voice was full of emotion, his limbs loose and wild, but he seemed to only be in his own head.

" _Right? Right? Shh. Quiet. Church. His house. Place of clasped hands, reverent hymns, and massive raw amounts of begging. On your knees, boy. Beg him. Beg him- For forgiveness_."

Her throat raw, tears streaming down her face, Buffy realized he was heading straight for the large crucifix hanging in the front.

" _Spike-_ "

" _Buffy. I can't sleep. Can't think. There's voices and darkness and blindness and pain and help me, I- I_ -"

" _Your soul_."

" _It's killing me_."

Standing before the crucifix, Spike latched onto it before Buffy could react. As the steam billowed off of him, she stooe still, shocked, and unable to move."

" _God. God hates me. You hate me. I hate myself more than ever._ "

A step closer, she dropped the stake and said, "I don't hate you. Why-?"

" _You know why. I got my soul back- So I could be the kind of-Person- You could care for, the man you would come to- The man you could love_."

Rushing to him, she pulled him off the crucifix and held him against her. Spike's body was hot, steam still coming off him, but he was silent now, except for the sobs he couldn't keep from escaping.

* * *

Spike laid on his cot in the basement, regretting his refusal of Buffy's offer of her bed or her company. Embarrassment flushed through him, remembering what he had done and what she had seen. In most cases, he couldn't remember anything that happened, and he wondered if it was her presence that called it back to him.

He'd been lying on his cot, just like now, and thinking it might be worth it to get up to kick the Whelp's ass at the video game of the week and then all of sudden he'd been in Buffy's arms, burned and broken in front of the crucifix. The words and actions came back to him then and he tried to push away from her, but she'd just held him closer, murmuring that she didn't hate him and that they'd have to be strong. It wasn't just the soul doing this to him, she'd whispered, but something else, darker and more ominous. It wasn't him.

Eventually, she had guided him home, her words and actions gentle and supportive, as she led him past Xander's sleeping form on the couch to the kitchen and had him lean against the counter for support. And now, his only comfort was the remembrance of the softness of her expression as she looked at him, telling him that he was safe, that he was home, and she was there to keep an eye on him as she fed him a bag of blood and applied cream to his sore chest.

Spike knew that he didn't deserve it, her ministrations, attention, or friendship, if that was even what they shared, but he'd take it, take whatever she was willing to give him, so long as she kept giving it.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I apologize for the delay between chapters. Please continue to enjoy as we now start to move further into the abyss of the AU.**

Buffy couldn't sleep, not when Spike was downstairs and she couldn't keep an eye on him. She was feeling protective, having seen what was happening and not understanding what it was. Spike was powerful and if something could control him, it didn't bode well for any of the rest of them. Part of her feared it was the soul that was tearing him apart, as though his subconscious was rejecting the implant. But as she thought more on it, she knew he had been doing better with it, at least that was what she wanted to think.

Spike had been so ashamed of himself after she tore him off the crucifix and got him home. He wouldn't look at her and kept saying that it might be better if he went somewhere else until they figured out what was happening. To her, it wasn't even a consideration. For one, he didn't appear to be a threat to anyone but himself, but if it did get to a more dangerous point, then there was no one better to face it than her. Telling him this, he had looked at her then, so serious, and she expected to see his eyes clouded over again, but this time, all was clear. The sight took her breath away and she opened her mouth to break the tension, but then he'd said something about her diffusing the problem by taking him out, and she'd been able to do nothing more than grasp his arm harder and pick up the pace.

By the time she had him back on his cot, running her fingers through his hair, a softer expression had replaced the serious tension on his face and he had thanked her. His mouth lay open in wonder and she couldn't look away from his lips as she remembered the softness of his upon hers. How easy it would be to reach down and kiss him, to succumb to the urges she knew they both felt, to achieve the release they both desperately wanted.

Instead, her legs carried her up the stairs, but her heart stayed down in the basement with him. Buffy wished she was brave enough to have laid down next to him and faced the nightmares together, both in the dream and real world. She wished she trusted herself enough to open herself up to him, rather than take advantage of the circumstances for her own brand of comfort. What they had developed in the past few weeks felt far too precious for her to tarnish by falling back into bad habits, and so she left him there to his darkness, hoping that at the very least, he knew she cared.

Now she lay in bed, feeling chilled, lonely, and scared, thinking that the habits themselves were not to blame, but her own intentions. She was fixing her intentions, determined as she was, so maybe, soon, she would be brave enough to show him.

* * *

Willow and Tara returned home a few days later with smiles on their faces, Willow looking a bit more sheepish and apprehensive as she faced her friends. Xander hadn't hesitated in embracing the both of them, Buffy and Dawn quick to follow. Buffy shifted her body to glance back at the lurking Spike, who she had insisted come with them to the airport, but before she could process any kind of reaction, Tara stepped away from the group and pulled Spike into a tight hug. Within her chest, Buffy felt a mixture of sorrow, regret, and jealousy. Despite her changing, and growing more obvious by the second, feelings, she knew that the relationship between Tara and Spike was more tender and sweet. For Buffy to have included him in the embrace would have opened her up to a ton of questions that she wasn't ready to answer, as it would never appear as innocent.

Buffy wanted to hug him for those non-innocent reasons, but she also wanted him to feel included, to include him without hesitation or condition, and for that to just be accepted. Sure, Tara could do it because she was Tara, the nurturer, kind one in the group. It wasn't that she was still trying to hide her relationship with Spike from her friends, however it was defined, but everything between them was so fragile that she didn't want every step they took to be analyzed or judged.

As they made their way over to the Bronze to continue the reunion festivities, Buffy found herself in danger of brooding as she watched her friends take over the dance floor- Tara and Willow looking happy and light, Anya and Xander without a peep of an argument, and Dawn crowded around her own friends and looking every bit the young teen she was. They had invited her to join them, but the coupley-ness made her feel left out and just a little with the resentment. Spike had left to get a drink and so she used not wanting to abandon him as an excuse. Waiting, she tapped her foot to the music, itching to dance, and trying to focus on anything else besides not having hugged Spike earlier. It wasn't like they hadn't seen each other in months, so the hug wouldn't have even been warranted, but still she felt like it was a missed opportunity.

Spike, the constant subject of her thoughts nowadays, seemed lighter than he had in a long while. There hadn't been any more incidents since the church and he started to trust himself again. They were talking more too, nothing particularly deep, but more at ease. He still went out late into the night, claiming he had to keep up appearances within the demon world to stay updated and maintain his Big Bad status, but he was now patrolling with her every night and it was quickly becoming what she most looked forward to during the day.

His old teasing was coming out, challenging her to sparring when demon-slayage was slow, providing colorful commentary to all of her battles, and not hesitating to trade insults, though decidedly more tame than anything in their past. The playful glint in his eyes returned, making Buffy feel warm all over.

It was this very expression, his bright eyes and crafty smirk, that she found approaching her in the Bronze and suddenly, Buffy didn't care that her friends were feet away, as they were caught up in their own little worlds anyway, that the vampire was balancing a tray of drinks as he walked, or that people milled about them. She met him through the crowd and threw her arms around his neck and didn't detach herself as he backed her towards the table, dropping off the now half-filled drinks, before finding a space of their own and holding her close.

Flush against him, her heartbeat reverberating through the both of them, she rested her head against his chest, swayed to the music, and savored the feeling of just being.

* * *

It was this feeling she remembered the next few days and weeks, as they tracked down a flesh-eating demon, stopped a group of evil high schoolers from sacrificing an innocent teenage seer who dropped dead of heart failure despite their best efforts, and convinced Anya to give up being a Vengeance Demon once and for all. There hadn't been time for a repeat performance or a conversation about what it had meant, but she missed it.

Buffy was still caught up in her feelings of Spike, and daydreaming at work, when suddenly, she wasn't. She had been talking to this boy Dawn liked, RJ, caught between wanting to steer him away from her sister and towards Dawn, when she realized his appeal. Thoughts of Spike disappeared and all she could focus on was the confused man in front of her, looking dapper, charming, and quite a bit pleased with himself.

It didn't matter that over the next few days, Dawn wasn't speaking to her anymore; her, Willow, Tara, and Anya, were trying to outdo one another for RJ's attention; or that Spike and Xander were treating them all with disdain and exasperation. Buffy knew she needed to do something drastic and taking out Principal Wood- the gall he had to reprimand such a man as RJ- was the only way to prove her undying love.

Fear mixed in with that unbridled lust as she realized Dawn was missing and where she had gone. The train was coming fast, and she broke off from the argument with Willow and Tara, to get to her sister. Buffy hoped that Dawn understood what she was saying because this speech had been a particularly good one. No man was worth her life, flashes of Angel hit her right in the gut as she said it, feeling slightly shamed, though the realization of how she had been acting the past few days was far worse. The girls agreed amongst themselves never to talk about it again, and Xander was bribed easily with a box of donuts and promises of kisses from Anya, but Spike was decidedly not talking to her, which wasn't fair because the rest of the girls had been just as bad and he was talking to them.

Walking from her bedroom, determined to get the stupid and stubborn vampire to talk to her again, she stopped as she heard his low rumble comforting Dawn.

"'It's what love is, Pet. Not pretty or easy. More apt to make a fool outta yourself than anything else."

"But it's just so embarrassing. I can't even look at him anymore."

"Figure the bloke has more to be embarrassed about than you. It happens, Dawn." Spike chuckled. "Did you see the rest of the chits? Anya robbed a bank, Willow and Tara almost turned against their very nature, and Buffy-" the humor in his voice dropped, causing Buffy to cringe. "Well, your sister was a downright nut, but that's the end of that. Love makes us blind, Kitten, and there's not a one of us immune to it. Not a vampire slayer, powerful witches, useless whelp, a thousand year old former vengeance demon, or bloodsucker like me, and especially not an innocent teenage girl with raging hormones."

Buffy snuck a peak in time to see Dawn burst into laughter as she socked Spike with a pillow. He grabbed it from her, tossed it behind her, and got Dawn to lie down. Just in time, Buffy stepped away from the doorframe, a smile on her face, as she waited for Spike to leave the room. His friendly demeanor shifted as he found her waiting for him.

"Dawn sounds happier."

His grunt was noncommittal. He was halfway down the stairs when she decided to chase after him.

"You're a hypocrite!"

At the bottom of the stairs now, Spike looked like he was biting his tongue, but couldn't help but retort against her comment, the hand on her hip, and the challenging expression on her face.

"How's that now?"

"All that you said to Dawn, how it's all fine and nothing to be embarrassed about, how you let the rest of them off the hook, but me, you won't even look at."

Spike crossed his arms against his chest and tried to look casual. She wasn't buying it.

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"

Looking for a moment like he was truly considering her question, he shrugged and turned away from her, his hand twisting the knob of the front door.

"'M going out. Got stuff to do."

"Oh no you don't, Mister!"

Using her slayer speed, Buffy brushed past him and made it to the porch before he could make his exit.

"You're being particularly annoying this evening," she sniped.

"Funny, I was just going to say that about you."

They stared each other down, unwavering, before Spike gave in with a sigh.

"What do you want, Slayer?"

"I wanted to talk to you," she tried not to pout but she couldn't help it and now he was smirking at her, which was more infuriating. "But now, I don't, so go on and enjoy your night."

She tried to slam the door in his face, but he was too fast, his smirk wider, and he caught it with his foot.

"Now I'm thinkin' I might want to stay home."

"Fine, then I'll go out patrolling or some-"

"Though a little fist and fang action might be fun."

"Spike-!"

"What?"

He looked so innocently back at her that Buffy didn't know if she wanted to smack him or kiss him. Instead, she fixed him with a heated glare that even got Dawn to do whatever she wished.

"Will you please stop acting like a petulant, jealous teenager?"

"'M not the jealous type, Pet."

Buffy scoffed.

"Desperate wasn't a pretty color on you."

"Nor is jealousy on you."

"I just said I wasn't-" Spike took an unnecessary breath. "Fine, I was jealous. What's it to you?"

Sensing this sudden shift, Buffy felt uneasy. Despite his usual lack of patience and subtlety, Buffy knew Spike was calling her bluff. He didn't think she was up for having this conversation, the true Buffy and Spike feelings conversation, which she totally wasn't, but she also didn't want to surrender.

With a deep breath and a flash of courage, Buffy looked up at him.

"Nothing happened with RJ."

Spike's eyes warmed. "That right?"

"Xander walked in before-" But that hadn't been the right thing to say and his eyes flashed again as he looked away from her. "I mean-"

"You were under a spell, couldn't help yourself."

"I-" She had been busy formulating a solid rebuttal to whatever rant he was about to go on, but this caught her off-guard. "Yes, that's right."

"Don't have a right to be jealous anyways."

He said it more like a question and Buffy wanted to answer him the way he wanted her to answer. That yes, he did have a reason to be jealous because there was something, much nicer and sweeter, blossoming between them, but Buffy couldn't get the words to leave her tongue and silence hung between them.

"Still up for that patrol then?"

Once again, he was offering her an out, and Buffy wanted to shock him by not taking it. But she wasn't sure what she could offer him at this point, other than her friendship and her lust, and she didn't want to hurt him anymore.

"Yeah. I think I could kill something."

"Good," he said as he shut the door and stepped into the night. Buffy followed him, feeling a little bit better because at least he sounded like he meant it.


	13. Chapter 13

Things were definitely wonky. She and Spike had spent a great deal of time comforting an exhausted and terrified Dawn, haunted by some kind of spirit impersonating their mother and none of them had gotten much sleep the past few nights. Work was frustrating, feeling as though she couldn't help any of the teens who came to her, and patrol was a bust, not enough vampires or demons flocking the town to fight. Then Willow and Tara had come home from the library, claiming they had seen the young seer who Buffy had been unable to save, reiterating the same threatening words Spike had heard.

To be honest, it made her feel a little better knowing it wasn't just Spike being affected, though with the incidents growing more regular, she decided it wasn't in anyone's best interest to be going off on their own and they'd taken to staying in pairs. Spike didn't complain about his lack of nightly activities as he no longer went into town, relieved as he was not to have experienced any more blackouts or ghostly visits.

It was a relief to find themselves with a Friday night without much responsibility. Work had been tedious and dull and she was itching for some fun. Spike had promised to meet her for a quick patrol before heading to the Bronze with the rest of the group, Buffy thinking she deserved some comfort and enjoyment and very much wanting to relax in the vampire's arms.

Instead, she was raging. The damn vampire never showed. At first, she was worried, but the longer she waited, the more her sympathy waned. Taking a deep breath, she banged open the front door of her house, checking for Spike for the fourth time. Still a no show, she was grumbling, hungry, having a little too much energy that needed to be burned, and feeling slighted over missing an opportunity for dancing time with Spike.

 _Because he couldn't be bothered to show_.

Slamming the door behind her, she looked up to find the tree Spike used to lurk behind back in his stalking days and she frowned. This wasn't right, Spike wouldn't just not show unless there was a serious problem. Despite her persistent wishing otherwise in the past, and with as much humility as she could muster, Buffy knew she was Spike's priority, particularly if he thought he had a chance at a crumb, and she had made it very clear that she intended to dance, with him. Well, as clear as she could be, but still.

Worry and guilt replaced anger. She rushed back to the Bronze, just to check that he hadn't showed, flew through the numerous cemeteries of town, stopped by his old crypt, and remained unable to find the vampire. A lump rose in her throat, her preference for action stifled by her inability to locate him. If he was in trouble, she'd be able to help him, to save him, if only she knew where he was.

Lumbering through town, and desperate to do something, a flash of white caught her eye. Spike stood a few feet in front of her, shielded by a crowd of people huddled in a line outside a club she had never entered, his arm around a cute, young, red-head she had never met. Jealousy, bright and hot, sat in her stomach like a brick, and Buffy had to keep herself from storming over to him and knocking him in the nose. Spike and the nameless girl were leaving the club and with a shaky breath, Buffy followed at close enough of a distance that she could keep track, but not close enough that he'd register her.

The gall of him, to not only ditch her, but for another woman, someone she'd never even met. Was this, or who, Spike had been up to when he went out all those late nights? He'd shrugged and laughed off all her questions, claiming it was just time spent out with buddies in seedy demon bars, playing poker and picking up town news, but this was something else altogether. And he could claim the girl was part of the plan as much as he wanted, but the tightness and closeness of his arm around her was not something that could be faked. Buffy wanted blood, having brewed pent up energy all night, and Spike was her favorite target.

Except, when she got close enough to hear what they were saying, it didn't sound like Spike. In tone and inflection, maybe, but not in words. He was charming, in a cringe-worthy, old British man type of way that turned her off. It was him from appearance to demeanor, but something was missing. Still, she was too pissed to analyze.

As they walked, Buffy was not taking the time to assess her surroundings, so caught up in the fact that Spike had gotten over her without her having realized, another missed opportunity Buffy messed up, when she found them lumbering up the walkway of a house she'd never seen before.

 _Must be the mistress' house,_ she grumbled, and considered turning around and acting like she didn't care one iota, bursting through the door and crumbling them both to pieces, or waiting outside, allowing him this last pleasure before staking him to dust. Of course, Buffy had tarnished all rights to call him hers after all she'd done to him, but lately, they'd grown closer and she kept thinking _maybe, someday, soon._ She was going to turn around and go home to scream into her pillow, but they'd left the front door open, even odder, and as her slayer senses tingled, she followed behind and went into the house. The rooms were dark and Buffy frowned as she stumbled through the door. Something was very much not of the good in here. Finding herself in the kitchen, she found another door left open, and she walked towards it, her breath hitching in her throat, just as a scream echoed throughout the entire house.

Bolting down the stairs, she found a vamped out Spike looming over the girl, his fangs almost to her throat. The girl looked at her, pleading for help, but Spike didn't register her appearance. She knocked him away from the girl with a punch in the shoulder and motioned for the girl, who didn't hesitate, to run. Spike looked at her then, his yellow eyes flashing, but lifeless. It hit her then, just as Spike lashed out, that he wasn't with himself.

"Spike!" She screamed, not wanting to fight him. It didn't deter him as he stalked towards her like a predator. With a slap, he knocked her back, but after a few hits in retaliation, Buffy thought it was just making things worse, moving him further away from her. Standing, she stepped in front of him, both of them bleeding, and placed a hand on his chest, as she reached into her pocket with the other for a stake. Her voice a whisper, she tried again, "Spike."

Though he had stopped to watch her, he continued his prowling, finding the blood dripping from a slice on her forehead and licking it. He shuddered as he tasted her blood and Buffy choke back a sob.

"This isn't you. Fight it."

His eyes grew wide and he hesitated, turned away, responding to something behind him that Buffy was unable to see. Before she could pull him back to her, his fangs were on her throat and he was holding her flush against him, the gentle softness from which she had grown accustomed from him gone.

"You don't want to do this. I don't want to do this."

The stake was on his heart as she felt the piercing of her skin, just a bit more pressure and he'd be gone.

"I believe in you, Spike-"

She held her breath and waited, just a moment, but Spike had pulled back, still just a breath away, but no longer threatening. Opening her eyes, but keeping the stake where it was, she leaned away from him to look at him. He was breathing heavy, his eyes closed and he was shaking, though his vamp visage was gone. With a pang, she realized he was crying. She pocketed the stake and wiped the tears away.

"I coulda killed her," he whispered, his voice harsh.

"You didn't."

"I wanted to."

"It wasn't you. Spike, there's something messing with you, with all of us. It came to Willow and Tara the other night, and Dawn, remember? It's not just you."

"I almost killed you."

"Wouldn't have gotten that far-"

He pulled out of her embrace, angry. "And it'll never get that close enough again. You should have staked me."

Fixing her best glare at him, she crossed her arms at her chest.

"I knew I could get to you."

"You couldn't have been that certain."

"Lucky for you, I was."

"Might've been better if-"

"Don't finish that sentence!" The cool exterior she had been trying to exude was cracking as her voice broke. "Whatever this is, we'll fix it, like we always do."

She braved a step towards him.

"Listen to me, Spike. Yes, you could have hurt the girl and me, you very nearly did, but you stopped yourself in the end."

"You stopped me."

"And I'll do it again if need be. Right now, we're going home, getting some rest, and tomorrow night, you're going to make it up to me by taking me dancing."

"Buffy- You aren't taking this seriously enough. I-" He looked up at her angrily, but didn't have more words to offer.

"I am seriously serious Spike. Big bad things are happening, things that are scary to a slayer, her vampire pal, and two powerful witches. But it's hard to do something about it when we don't know what it is. And a girl's still gotta live sometimes."

Buffy smirked at a still bewildered Spike, took his hand, leading him out of the basement, the house, and back towards home.

* * *

The next morning, enjoying the fact it was a Saturday and she didn't have to rush off to school, Buffy made her way down to the basement, intending to talk more sense into Spike and frowning when she heard voices.

"What-?"

Her arms crossed at her chest, she glowered at the two arguing men, the brunet with chains in his arms.

"Xander!" The boy at least had the decency to look ashamed, but Spike glared back. Sheepish, handing the chains to Spike, Xander held up his hands and backed away from them, bypassing Buffy and running up the stairs.

Spike rolled his eyes and said, "It's safer this way."

Her arms dropped at her side and her mouth opened wide in shock.

"This is your idea?"

"Last night was too close a call."

"But-"

"It's happening, Buffy. Might not be enough to hold me very long, but at least you can live your life not worried that the Big Bad'll lash out."

"I understand that you're-"

"You of all people should understand. I'm a vampire, Pet, you're the Slayer. I'm always a threat, no telling what could happen, when the urge to strike-"

"Spike," she took a step closer to the pacing vampire midst his ranting rampage. "You have a soul."

"Soul's not doing a damn bit of damage control against this- this- thing. I won't risk it. Can't risk you."

He couldn't look at her when he said it, but stopped his frantic pacing, and the finality in his tone and demeanor made her heart shutter. His desperate pleading made her desperate to change his mind, to assure him that he wouldn't lose her, no matter what that meant. Words failing her, she closed the distance between them, took his hand, and interlocked their fingers.

It had taken a lot more arguing before Buffy acquiesced, alternating between heated and insulting and kind and slightly seductive, deciding that the incident was still too fresh for Spike to see reason. With regret, guilt, and resignation, Buffy watched Spike tie himself to the wall. Feeling calmer, now that he seemed more relaxed, she sat next to him, asking him what he remembered of the night before and if he had experienced anymore of those blackouts, which he hadn't.

"You don't have to always be tied up. When I'm here, you can-"

"I'm fine, Pet. Could use some sleep though. Couldn't sleep last night, thinking I might've-" He cut himself off, unable to finish the words, and Buffy was grateful for that.

Recognizing the dismissal, with a sigh, a look of sadness and longing, Buffy left him to his sleep, the promise that she'd help him meeting his silence.

"Buffy-"

His voice was a whisper that made her heart clench. In response, she swept back over to him, her hand inches away from his face, wanting to touch and comfort him.

"Here."

Spike shoved the key to the chains in her hand and turned gruffly away from her. As though burned, Buffy hurried up the stairs.

* * *

She spent a great deal of the day in the kitchen, performing various chores and experimenting with cooking, hoping that she'd be able to lure the vampire out from the basement. Had he needed her help to unlock him, she didn't want to be far.

It was near dark by the time Dawn begged her to give up cooking and to do something, since the night before had been a bust. Determined, Buffy nodded at her sister and headed up the stairs to get ready. If they were going to win whatever this thing was, and if she was going to prove to Spike how much she cared, she was going to show them all that they were in it together. First step, dancing time.


	14. Chapter 14

Spike refused to touch her. If Buffy got too close, he'd whip away from her as though scalded, which happened frequently thanks to their close proximity at the Bronze. Maybe it had been a bad idea to take him here, premature, but she was trying to hold onto some semblance of normal. From her spot at the table, she watched Willow and Tara dancing, smiles on both of their faces, and she couldn't help but feel the warmth between them. Even Xander and Anya were off in a corner of the dance floor, standing very close and laughing about something. Dawn had taken up a good amount of the night chatting away about her day, but then a group of her friends had shown up and called her over to them. Buffy had encouraged it, partly for Dawn to spend time with people her own age, but also to give her and Spike some alone time. Encouragement had been futile, since Spike was not chatty, nor willing to dance, and now Buffy didn't know what to say.

In addition to his jumpy demeanor was the fact that Spike wasn't drinking. He'd gone up to the bar a few times to refill her diet coke, his eyes widening in alarm, his hand pulling back at the brush of her fingers in the exchange. At her questioning, he'd muttered about not wanting to lower his inhibitions any further. Every time she looked at him now, she felt her stomach drop at his downtrodden expressions, and Buffy could tell he was warring with himself on the inside. Not one to be good with words, Buffy wished she could find the best thing to say to comfort him, but the truth was, she had no idea what they were facing and if there was comfort to be had. Whatever it was, was tearing him apart, which made her want to piece him back together even more.

Every so often, she'd scoot her stool a bit closer to him, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear or pointing towards a sweaty couple as a distraction. He'd been looking off into the distance, a hazy look in his eyes when she placed her hand on his elbow and looked up at him with her most endearing doe-eyed expression that she knew he couldn't resist.

"Spike," her voice was down to a throaty whisper, which required that she lean in closer. "I need to dance and-"

"Go off to your friends then. Don't need to babysit me, yeah? Well, actually-"

Sticking her lower lip out, she pouted. His voice had cracked, clearly showing that she had some pull over him still. It wasn't that she wanted to be the aggressive Buffy of the past, but there were some things that she kept in her arsenal to get what she wanted that were fairly harmless.

"They're all coupled up. 'Sides," she made sure he was watching her, "I'd rather dance with you."

She'd definitely gotten her way with that line, but she didn't allow herself to feel guilty because it was true. Something deeper and intriguing was building between her and Spike and despite the next probable-apocalypse looming, she really wanted to see what that was about. They talked a lot, except for at this very moment, and she never felt like she had to censor herself around him, whether she spent too much time complaining about work, bragging about whatever demon she had brought down (even if he had been there to see it), worrying over Dawn's latest dramas, or wondering about her friends' relationships. Not only was Spike an excellent listener, she particularly liked when she caught him looking at her, this slight smirk on his face, but eyes full of interest that made her certain he hung onto every word and cared about what she was saying, but he offered such poignant advice for a man who spent the past hundred years wreaking havoc.

Now that she was paying more attention, and not denying with every fiber of her being, she realized how good her and Spike were together, whether they were sparring and exchanging moves, fighting against the sparse baddies of the night, or dancing. He wouldn't come nearly close enough for her liking. She'd keep moving in and he'd back away, maintaining an awkward shuffle step that had nothing to do with the music and more to do with keeping busy. Another step, he backed a half step away. A bigger step, and he knocked into the couple latched onto each other behind him. Taking advantage, Buffy placed a firm hand on his arm, sliding it up to reach his neck when he didn't pull away and mirrored the move with the other hand. She locked her eyes on his, flashing him a warm smile. Thanks to the Powers That Be, the next song was a slow one, and after a few more awkward steps, Spike started to relax.

Buffy didn't let go for the next song, or the one after, and even though the music picked up the pace, they kept swaying slowly, that familiar burn building in her stomach. Spike's eyes were glazing over in the lustful way she had grown so accustomed, and she thought how easy it would be to reach up, just a few inches, and kiss him, to give him the release she had taken from him months ago. It was growing clearer that she wanted him, physically and emotionally, but she didn't want it to be about cold comfort anymore. They both had to be in a good place for it and she wanted to prove her good intentions. Instead, she reached up and brushed her lips against his cheek, pulled away, and smiled up at him so as to show that she wasn't rejecting him, maintaining a much more appropriate distance.

The dancing had done wonders for his demeanor and though he remained quiet, he seemed calmer and more content. Xander and Anya had left, clearly together, making her heart sing, and somehow Dawn had pulled Tara and Willow into a conversation about the night, leaving her and Spike to fall behind on the walk home. After the dancing, when the music stopped and the lights went on, Buffy held onto his hand. Spike had looked down at their interlaced fingers, looked back up at her, matching her shy smile, and followed her back to the group. Xander had raised an eyebrow, but no one else said a word or made any indication that they'd seen anything out of the ordinary.

Standing in the doorway, Buffy watched as the three other women ascended the stairs, whispering tired 'goodnights' and waited until she heard the click of the doors. Turning to face Spike, intending to clasp her other hand with his and gift him with a kiss goodnight, she let out an audible sigh of disappointment when Spike pulled his hand away, looking awkward again.

"Help with the chains, yeah?"

She didn't know what to say to that, as she'd actually forgotten about the damned things, but he didn't offer her time to respond, as he walked away from her and towards the basement. Silently, she followed, clinking the chains around his wrists, placing a wooly blanket over him, and wanting nothing more than to lie down next to him and promise that nothing bad would come.

* * *

It took Buffy exactly a week to work up the courage to put her plan into action. Spike hadn't been as mopey, though he was more prone to chatting when he was tied up in the basement, allowing the girls to visit, and brightening considerably when Xander brought a TV and gaming system downstairs where they played for hours after Xander got off work.

The plan had started to formulate as she lay in bed, moments after she had chained Spike to the wall. Yes, there was something major happening to them that would take precedence, she wasn't in denial about that. And yes, maybe she was being inconsiderate of Spike's emotional state by thinking this way when he was so obviously miserable, but she thought she had a pretty good antidote for that. Life happened, crazy, scary, life-threatening things happened to all of them and sometimes things couldn't wait.

Buffy was going to woo Spike, in a healthy, normal, wants-a-real-relationship type of way.

Leaving Spike and Xander to their manly bonding time and Tara and Willow to studying, Buffy headed out in the early afternoon to shop with Dawn. Though she hadn't told her sister exactly what she had planned, the younger girl was perceptive, bubbling with excited energy and going on and on about this finally happening. Buffy was not going to prod her into saying what finally meant, but did let her pick out the outfit she thought Spike might like best. They'd settled on a simple, not-too-revealing black dress with cute, yet practical boots to match. At lunch, Buffy tried not to roll her eyes too far and hard when Dawn asked her how Spike was as a kisser or if his skills were more honed thanks to the whole vampire thing, and was relieved that Dawn broke into giggles just as Buffy opened her mouth to issue some sort of response.

On their way home, they stopped into the Magic Box to check in with Anya, who had suggested Dawn pick up a few hours helping out around the store to make some pocket money. Dawn had way too much interest in the access to the dark items she had no idea the kinds of powers they held, which made Buffy hesitate, but then Anya had much more financial sense than she did and might be a good model for her sister. Thanking her again for taking Dawn with her and Xander that night, they waved goodbye and headed back to the house.

Butterflies were fluttering in her stomach, excited and anxious, as she called out a hello to the boys, suggesting Xander and Dawn get going and telling Spike she wanted a shower before they went patrolling. If he was curious as to why she showered before going on patrol, he didn't question it, but she was pleased when she found him in the kitchen, very much unchained, sipping on a mug of blood when she was finished and all dressed for the night. His reaction was soundless, but satisfying. Eyes wide, mouth parted, and Buffy felt a pleasant flush come over her. He swallowed the rest of the blood down in one gulp when she gestured to leave.

Patrol was as quiet as it had been. Every few days, there'd be a new fledge digging himself up from the grave that they'd take down with a quick swipe of a stake, but it wasn't much fun. Not quite daring to say things had been too easy, Buffy missed the thrill of the fight. It didn't help that Spike wouldn't spar with her anymore. Regardless of how far the wooing went this evening, and she wasn't trying to rush things, she just wanted him to know she was interested in more, Buffy was feeling very unsatisfied.

On the way home, conversation was breezy until Buffy mentioned off-hand that Dawn was staying with Xander and Anya for the night and that Tara and Willow would be pulling an all-nighter at the library. Spike's eyebrows rose up into his hairline, which made Buffy giggle, as nervous as she was, but he didn't offer a reply. Taking his hand as even further assurance, he looked quite pleased with himself, which made Buffy warm all over. If nothing else, there was going to be kissage, she was sure of it.

When they reached the house, Buffy noticed him hesitate at the door. Grasping his other hand, she faced him fully, smiling up at him.

"Spike," her throat was dry, heart racing, but she felt remarkably happy. "I don't want to pressure you into anything you don't want to do. I know it's been weird, these past few weeks. Things have been happening and we've no idea- But, I think, well, this is important too. And I just want you to know, it's different this time because I-"

Spike froze, his formerly impassive face changing into one of predator.

"Spike-"

He broke away from her and for a terrifying moment, Buffy thought he was being possessed again, but his now golden eyes flashed at her, concern evident, and though she knew he was on alert for a reason, she wasn't threatened. There was something or someone in the house and he was protecting her.

Switching into slayer mode, pocketing the rest of the speech for later, which really was a bummer because it took a lot out of her to get up the courage to say it in the first place, Buffy placed her hand on the knob and turned to go into the house.

Stepping inside, fists, fangs, and stakes at the ready, Buffy and Spike came face-to-face with Giles and two young girls Buffy didn't recognize. Adrenaline flushed out of her system as Spike's vampire visage changed into his human face. The smile that had begun to blossom at seeing her Watcher faltered when the man took off his glasses, wiped them with vigor, and frowned at the pair.

"Buffy. Spike. I'm afraid we bring bad news."

 _But then_ , she thought, _what else was new?_


	15. Chapter 15

Buffy was growing ever more impatient. Once Giles offered his latest apocalypse spiel and she reluctantly welcomed the so-called Potentials into her home, more kept coming. She could no longer ignore the impending doom with the First back in play, this time with more power and threat behind it. Her house was overrun by a slew of young girls and she had no privacy, food, space, or, as she mentioned before, patience. Worse, Spike had gone into seclusion to the basement, even from her, somehow convinced that since named, the First was suddenly more dangerous.

They hadn't continued the conversation she had started, rather bravely she thought, what with Spike adopting his isolation, Giles insisting she understand the gravity of the situation, and the Potentials pestering her with questions. She was either researching, babysitting, working, or slaying, though those demon prospects continued to dwindle, and now they knew why.

Spike would join her on patrol, but he was quiet, almost hesitant, and sometimes, if he fell into the shadows, she forgot he was there. Conversation consisted of the apocalypse and their place in it, as well as Spike's occasional insistence that everyone was better of if he remained in the basement, like some sort of secret, while she tried to convince him it wasn't the case. It wasn't just his lack of engagement, interest, or nerve, but she had lost her confidence, wondering if he'd even be in a good place for a relationship right now, and yet, part of her felt like she'd go crazy not telling him.

Not only was he hiding downstairs, but he insisted he remain tied up, but considering he hadn't been affected in weeks, she felt like it was silly. When she told him as much, he offered a small, sad smile with a shake of his head, telling her that it would be too much of a risk giving him free reign of a house filled with so much innocent, free blood. She'd rolled her eyes, to make a point of it with a disgusted snort, but he'd remained firm.

Two weeks of this and Buffy was ready to sacrifice herself to save the world, again.

At work, the principal acted oddly suspicious, hinting at a knowledge of the demon world and yet, never quite revealing anything definite. This was on top of the stream of teens who flooded her office with problems she wished had been the extent of her own high school issues, like needy or passive significant others, unfair teachers or parents, and wonderings about college. Back at home, she dealt with the usual Dawn dramatics of homework, boys, and chores, magnified by a hundred now that she had minions in the form of scared, confused, and excited teen girls. Giles was hounding her with questions, suggestions, and insistences that it was time she adopt the behavior of a war general. Xander was busy making things up to Anya, fixing things around the house, and working a full-time job, and Willow and Tara were still trying to finish school and keep away from the infested house. To make things worse, Andrew made his timely return to Sunnydale with more knowledge and threats of the First, and they had no other choice but to hold him their willing captive. He acted more like a welcomed visitor of the house and was wearing everyone down with his antics. She'd rather be tied up in the basement with Spike, but then that opened up an entire world of interesting scenarios she wasn't allowing herself to think about right now.

Except, lying in bed, her floor crowded with sleeping bags and whispering teens, she still felt so alone. But it wasn't just about the loneliness, despite a crowded house. She missed the confidant in which she had grown so dependent on these past few months. He could make her angry, happy, sad, annoyed, and silly in a matter of seconds with his shift from brooding to snarky to shamed to content. When she talked, he listened, like actually took in every word that she was saying, his eyes warm and invested, yet he never judged or offered overly wordy advice. He knew what she wanted and needed, what she could handle and what she had to ignore. And when they had danced, and even when she just thought of him, her body tingled and melted, and she wanted him to know that. Placated and determined that she'd tell him in the morning, Buffy finally gave into sleep.

* * *

Confusion and yelling laced the energy of the house, but stirring, Buffy's slayer senses focused on the problem immediately. Shoving out of bed, she dodged the Potential-made obstacle course on her floor, the bodies crowding the hallway, the concerned expressions lining her friends' faces, and raced down to the basement to meet a snarling, stricken Spike fighting his chains. He was vamped out, feral-almost, growling at an empty corner of the basement that Buffy was sure held the energy of the First. She went to him, but his cuffed fist made contact and knocked her to the side. If she stepped within reach, he'd snap at her neck, his limbs as wild, loose, and desperate as his demeanor, but still somehow drawn to the space in the corner. Without hesitation, she slapped him across the face and she watched as his eyes cleared. Staring at her, he shook his head, appearing as lost and bewildered as she felt, and all she wanted was to reach for him and hold him tight. Acting on impulse and not daring to stop to think of the consequences, she stepped towards him, but he staggered away.

When he spoke, his voice was a thick and emotional whisper, but he didn't quite meet her eyes.

"Shoulda staked me."

"I- the chains-"

"Held this time, but we can't be too sure. If you'd given me another minute-" he shook his head.

"You came out of it, right when I slapped you."

"Lucky strike. Had I gotten one in you coulda been-" he didn't finish his sentence, but this time he met her eyes.

"What was it saying to you?"

Spike held the gaze, firm, to prove his point, but broke off with a sigh.

"Same as before. Ghosts of my past and all that rot. Trying to stir up my bloodlust. Worked."

"What triggered it this time?"

"No idea. One second I was sound asleep, next, everything's hazy and all I want is to kill, and then I'm staring at you with a sore cheek."

"I-"

"Buffy?"

She turned, finding Giles standing at the bottom of the stairwell, his glasses on the bridge of his nose, hair messy from sleep, and a stern expression on his face. She knew what he was trying to convey without words and she wasn't giving into him. He hadn't really understood the Spike of the past few months and even though Giles had been impressed by Spike's soul-getting and admitted it was as spectacular a circumstance as it was strange, he could never fully trust even an ensouled vampire. Not after Angel, with Jenny. It was Spike who broke the tension.

"Watcher, think it's time we took care of the problem."

Blinded panic rushed through her system at his words.

"Find the trigger and remove it-"

"Or take out the problem in its entirety."

Buffy chilled at the nod Spike offered Giles in agreement. She refused to remain silent.

"This is bigger than all of us, Giles, Spike. The fight, it's mine, and it's yours, the Scoobies, and all of those girls up there. Bad things are happening and we all know worse will follow because that's how it goes. But we face it, together, with as few sacrifices as possible because it's not necessary, not unless you're left with a last second, save-the-day decision, and I've already used our allotted one. You don't get to make that sacrifice just because it feels more convenient."

"Buffy-" both Giles' and Spike's voices meshed, Giles trying for firm, Spike's desperate.

"Tomorrow, we will start to take aim at the trigger, whatever the hell is ticking you off. If we don't find it, we try again the next day. I need my soldier at his best Giles, and I need my-"

She thought about which word should follow. Friend, lover, support, vampire? All of them were relevant to an extent, but not all-encompassing. Spike decided to make the issue irrelevant.

"Tomorrow might be too late, Luv. Who's to say you scared it off for the night?"

With a knowing smirk, she looked at him as though it were the most obvious answer in the world.

"Me."

His eyes widened and warmed for a moment before they turned back to their usual confused and concerned flashing.

Turning towards Giles with a dismissive stance, she said, "I'll keep an eye on him tonight. Tomorrow-"

With a sigh, Giles muttered, "Tomorrow," and walked up the stairs with reluctance.

"Buffy-"

"Talking is not of the good right now, Spike. We're both too stubborn and on opposites sides of a major argument that can't be solved by words anyways."

"You need to sleep. I should-"

"What? Leave? Be more of a danger to the rest of the town? You're safer here where I can protect you."

"'T's not me who needs protecting."

"You're right," she said, and was satisfied at the flash of hurt in his expression, before she mollified, "I do need sleep."

"What-?"

Following her own orders, Buffy didn't respond with words. Instead, she walked closer to him, a finger on her lips, and took his hand, leading him over to the cot. Finding a position that did not include having chains digging into her tender skin proved difficult, as well as a reluctant vampire who was looking at her as though she was the crazy one. Ignoring his muttering, she laid down next to him, shifting her body closer to him every time he tried to back away, until the wall prevented any further separation.

Her heart was racing at his nearness, his unnecessary breaths a relief. After a moment, she felt him settle, his arms coming to rest around her body, and suddenly, she couldn't wait to wake up in the morning, just because they could.

* * *

Spike hated how much he loved the feeling of Buffy asleep in his arms. The bint was stubborn as all hell, and fearless, but he'd already known that. He hadn't realized just how stupid she could be, not only insisting that he stay in the house, though he understood the need to keep an eye on him, but to lie down in his bed? His unbeating, blasted heart was bursting, his soul stretching his physical and emotional parts to the extreme. The desire for the First to take a hike and leave him be, for his regrets and his guilt and his past to no longer weigh so heavily on his mind, and to just enjoy being a man with his woman kept him awake a lot longer than Buffy.

He didn't really want to sleep right now anyways, not when his dreams were coming true.

Shell-shocked by her determination to discover the source of the trigger, he tried to remind himself that it was due more to the need for him to be her soldier, though he'd never forgive himself for not letting her finish her sentence. What was he to her beside the unwavering warrior? Her what? He had a lot of answers to that question, dozens that he could only ever hope to be uttered from her mouth, and an imagination that had been built over a hundred years. But he never quite knew with Buffy, especially this softer, kinder Buffy who sought him out, treated him like a man, and spoke to him as though his opinions mattered. Love for her was the only thing that prevented him from dusting himself, her presence the only factor that had any chance of shaking him from the First's clutch. How long that would last, he didn't know. Since Giles, the girls, and Andrew had arrived, things around town seemed more ominous, dangers pressing, and Spike knew this was only the beginning.

But here she lay, in his unworthy arms, despite his respite into loony-town and the threat of how easily it could happen again. Tonight, Spike would allow himself to enjoy it, as well as hope for tomorrow, that they really could solve the trigger issue so that he could clear his mind, fight the badness, and then figure out what in all hell was going on with Buffy and her perspective on their relationship.

 _Tomorrow,_ he thought, _tomorrow might be good_ , as Spike succumbed to sleep.

* * *

Buffy was trying not to let her impatience show, Spike could tell. He was tied to a chair in her bedroom, at his own suggestion, just in case. Red and Glinda were there, pouring over old textbooks; Niblet was trying to distract him with stories from school while Buffy and Giles argued in hushed voices in a corner of the room; and the Whelp and Demon-Girl made moon eyes at each other. Spike hoped his longing for Buffy wasn't quite as pathetic as the look currently on Xander's face, but he suspected maybe it was worse. To his horror, Andrew had slid repeatedly into the room, until it became too much of a burden to keep kicking him out, and was trying to get Spike to reveal his bumpies. For whatever reason, Dawn was engaging the boy, regaling him with past stories of her own survivor stories, and saying, with a causal shrug, how it was nothing compared to the real deal, late at night, in the middle of a cemetery, but Spike was too tired to argue.

It was late, taking all day, and probably going to be longer. Everyone was losing hope, but Spike tried to hold onto the feeling of the morning, when he'd opened his eyes to find Buffy staring up at him, concern and kindness evident. She'd whispered a 'good morning' with a grin and Spike was certain he'd been dreaming, but then she'd pinched him back into the moment and the sly, clever smirk she graced him with then, proved reality. He'd almost kissed her, his head had started to descend, even though he was trying to stop himself, to tell himself not to ruin this perfect moment, but Buffy reacted faster.

The determination from the night before had awakened and she was up, pulling him behind her as she released him from the chains and dragged him upstairs. All of the wary and terrified faces of the Potentials did nothing to diminish the feel of Buffy's hand still in his as she somehow stuffed down a bowl of cereal and forced him to down his mug of blood before distracting the girls with a movie marathon and congregating the Scoobies upstairs in her room. Hours later, the excitement was fading. He was sore from sitting, his head aching from concentration, and it was dark outside. Of course, when they were trying to make it appear, the First would not attack.

Buffy must have broken away from Giles because she was before him then, an unreadable expression on her face. Hope flared fresh again as she leaned down towards him and Spike was hoping for reprieve for the day. It seemed silly almost, that she was about to kiss him, which would have been extraordinary, and not only because it was in front of all of her friends.

Stopping just as her lips were hovering over his, before her knees came down to rest on his thighs, or her hands on his shoulders, she whispered, "Isn't this cute? And all sorts of pointless?"

* * *

It happened in a second and though they were trying for it all day, their first instinct was to freeze. Spike vamped out, suddenly fierce and easily broke away from the chains that tied him to the chair. Shoving Dawn out the bedroom door, she watched in horror as Spike grabbed Andrew from behind. She intervened just as his fangs were about to penetrate flesh and tossed him from the room. Part of ushering out her friends was to protect them, but she also didn't want Giles making any rash decisions. Slamming the door behind her, she turned expecting to face Spike and smack him back into himself.

In a moment, she was certain she'd feel like a damned fool because of course, the First would reveal itself during a moment when she was too busy arguing with Giles to pay attention. She really wished it were corporeal so she could kick some ass. Poor Spike was no longer a suitable option.

Instead, she watched in horror as she realized the room was filled with the silent bringers who packed a strong punch. Wish-granted, she supposed, and then Buffy was punching, kicking, and slaying as she was born to do. It felt good, satisfying to make solid contact, to hear the crack of knuckles against worthy victims. Then, as suddenly as it had approached, the whirlwind of flying limbs disappeared.

Buffy surveyed the room, her legs wobbly and lungs missing air, as she realized it was completely empty. Spike was gone.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Some of the dialogue is taken directly from the episode, _Showtime,_ which I have italicized.**

 _Act, act, act,_ she sang in her head and yet, Buffy remained motionless. Staring at the open window as though it held answers, she heard a distant pounding coming from behind her, her friends trying to fight their way inside. She had always done her best work by taking the lead and doing. Plans wee always foiled, the more they talked, the less it went the way they intended, but she didn't even know how to begin.

Part of her sensed the door slamming open, a warm but firm hand of support went to her shoulder, a solid body fell into hers, Dawn, seeking comfort, but she had none to offer. Giles scurried throughout the room for evidence and maybe dust in place of the vampire that no longer inhabited the room. He muttered to himself, Xander cursed, Willow gasped, and Dawn sobbed, but Buffy couldn't bring herself to react to them. If she stood in this one spot, played over and over all that happened in a flash- Spike vamping out, her kicking the others out of the room, the Bringers invading, a fight, silence- she could figure out the solution and she could find him to bring him home.

She loved him, it's clearer to her now than it's ever been, but it's no longer with the anxiety-ridden anticipation of taking the leap, but filled with blind panic and rage and the very real knowledge that she never told him.

In time, Buffy would have to process the idea that for whatever reason, Spike mattered to the First, and that this must be a good thing for her, to have him on her side. They'd taken control of her greatest soldier, first his mind and now in physical presence and it scared her, what they could do with him. More than anything, she's not thinking of Spike as a soldier but as her lover and the fear that now resides is for what they could do to him. It mattered, that distinction, and she wished she could tell him so.

To get him back, she first needed to know what happened, where he went, and how to get to him, but she had nothing. It was his strength that had gotten her through these past few months, from coming back to everything with the First, and now he was gone. Buffy could feel it, how dangerously close to a breakdown she was, but she couldn't give up now, couldn't fail him. With a deep breath, she broke her gaze and turned toward her friends.

Tara and Anya had ran downstairs in the chaos to keep an eye on the oblivious girls caught up in their movie marathon, and though they were attempting to remain calm and cool, Tara more successful than Anya, their eyes followed Buffy as she walked down the stairs. Her legs felt wobbly, arms tingly, and she thought how much easier it would be just to crumble. These girls, Potentials with nothing but a mystical and romantic view of what it meant to be a slayer, hadn't really known much about Spike. Every so often, she'd heard their murmuring, the vampire with a soul, obsessed with Buffy, driven insane, volatile, dangerous, useless, and she'd rolled her eyes, knowing in time he'd prove himself as valuable as she knew him to be.

Standing in front of them, she kept from bursting into tears only because of the lack of emotion on their faces. None of them seemed too bothered, some of them relieved, and anger blossomed in her chest. These girls had come into her life because she was their only hope, but they acted like she was the overbearing babysitter mom and dad didn't realize they were too old to have. She hated them then, wanted them out of her house and out of her life, wanted Spike to just be here, but it wasn't happening. And now, they weren't even listening. Buffy paused her speech, took a deep breath, and prepared to tell them just how terrible they were, but froze.

A creature was standing outside the front window of her living room, and forgetting the girls in front of her, Buffy knew it was time to act. Her body was aching for it, the battle with the Bringers doing little to satisfy that craving. They were behind her, Giles, Xander, Willow, Tara, Anya, Dawn, and the girls, and this time, Buffy knew, they would see what it meant to be the slayer.

The creature was ancient, unlike anything she'd faced before, and ruthless. As she lashed out and heard the crunch of flesh on flesh, she waited for the thrill of domination, but instead met pain. The creature was strong, coming at her fast and furious, almost gleeful in its taunting. When it was over, the creature slinking off back into the night, after Spike, she just knew it, Buffy laid in the grass for a long time. The girls were shrieking and crying, the cocoon they had built around themselves shattered.

* * *

Later, the bruises receding, her body recovering, Giles explained about the Turok Han, almost undefeatable, and she had nothing to offer him. She knew the stakes, the constant ebb of panic surging every time she thought of Spike. To get back her vampire, she had to take down the creature whose weaknesses were indiscernible.

If possible, Buffy was even more exhausted than before Spike had been taken. In-between students at work, she drew out fighting strategies and bulleted notes, but knew it was useless. At home, the Potentials were worse, now nervous, on edge, hormonal, and talking in hushed whispers about their doubts about Buffy and her ability to protect them all. Dawn kept breaking down into tears, furious that she hadn't yet found Spike, as though Buffy weren't waging that same battle within. Willow and Tara, with serious supervision from Giles, had created a locator spell to find his location and having ran to it, Buffy suffered another embarrassing defeat by the Turok Han. Xander was trying to be helpful by limiting his semi-less offensive comments about Spike and Anya kept suggesting that best case scenario, Spike was already dust and therefore not suffering any kind of trauma. Giles didn't say a word about Spike, but his refined silence implied a sense of condescension and I-told-you-so that drove Buffy crazy. She felt helpless, hopeless, and alone.

To hide out from the rest of them, she went down to the basement and laid on Spike's cot. It was the only space in the house she managed to keep Potentials from overrunning. They had tried to make it the 'cool' place and Buffy had laughed at them, some of the girls reminding her so much of the Cordelia of the past, that she almost felt wistful. But they had scoffed at her, suggesting she get over her sick fascination with so-called vampires with souls, and Willow had caught her arm just in time from lashing out. Buffy refused to learn their names, but ensured that they spent the most time under Anya and Andrew's long and rambling tutelage and barely ever got an opportunity to partake in hand's on training.

Once she cleared it out again, making sure that Spike's few possessions were safe and untouched, Buffy made the basement her safe space. It was quiet and the only place she could meditate, something she hadn't done in months. The cot smelled like him too, however gross it sounded, she couldn't bring herself to wash his sheets. Spending too much time down there had its negative effects too. Too much time wasted hiding away meant less time researching and finding a way to Spike back. It also made her feel worthless, her inability to save him overwhelming, at the same time it was soothing. Taking deep breaths, Buffy's senses absorbed the Spikeness of the room and fell into sleep as best she could.

* * *

Spike drifted in and out of consciousness, constant pain controlling his body. All he wanted was to lie down, but the chains holding him against a sharp wall of what he suspected to be rocks didn't allow for much leeway. The strange creature, creepy and leering, tortured him wordlessly and seemingly without reason. When it disappeared, Spike waited in painful anticipation of when it might return. Pain and loss consumed him, his mind trying to convince himself that if she could, Buffy would come for him, because it was what she did, more so than it being what he deserved.

In his worst torment, when the First quieted, leaving him to his own twisted memories, Spike knew this was nothing compared to what he had done in his past. That such torture was his repentance and that relief was not justified, but he still yearned for it. When the First did take over his mind, he craved blood and the bite. The First, taking the form of all those in his past, whether he loved or despised them, taunted and teased, because despite his deepest yearning, he had no access to victims. When it quieted again, right before the creature would come back, Spike worried that the intention was to prime him for destruction, that at some point, he would crack and lose his mind irresolutely, and then he'd do whatever it wanted. In some ways, he did want it, however more terrible the guilt of it weighed on him because to succumb to oblivion would be bliss. Buffy, her light and her goodness, shone on him the most in these moments, pulling him from the dark thoughts and forcing him to fight through it.

Of course, as soon as he thought of her, the First would reappear in her vision. Every time, it started the same. Warmth and hope flared through him as she meandered towards him, his savior, saying the words he didn't even allow himself to dream about anymore, that she loved him, believed in him, wanted him there with her. He did believe it at first, partly because of how she had been acting recently, but then as she got closer, close enough that if he extended his chains just a bit further, he'd be able to touch her, but then his fingers would go right through her, and the Buffy in front of him chilled. Words were vicious, reminding him of who he was and the place in her world. He'd rather be dust than be thought of like that by her, but he fought his way through it, took all that the First and the creature through at him in the hopes that the real Buffy would come for him.

Right now, he was thankful for the silence. Slumping against his chains and focusing his thoughts on his girl, Spike fell into troubled sleep.

* * *

Buffy woke with a start. She rolled over, her senses so overwhelmed by Spike that she swore when she rolled over it would be into him. Of course, instead she ran into the wall, and the shock of the hit and the loss consumed her.

When she deigned to open her eyes, she knew it was morning by the small window on the opposite side. It was far enough away from the cot to not pose a threat to Spike, but close enough that he'd be able to tell the time of day. Once the final tears were shed, Buffy focused on her breathing and tried to build her determination. The Potentials just weren't getting it, the severity of the situation. They thought the training was play time, or else annoying and pointless. They didn't understand the importance of learning skills and strategies even though they didn't have strength and power. Her words weren't cutting it, but she couldn't bring them into the real danger, not when Buffy was barely a match for it herself. She'd get through to them though, she had to if any of them were to survive.

Once she got the courage to go upstairs, she found them all sitting in front of the TV again, munching on cereal and giggling about something Buffy didn't' care about knowing. That they just sat there staring at her, perturbed only that she dare step in front of the TV and regal them all with her latest speech about honor and team work and love, rolling their eyes and looking bored, Buffy wanted to kick them all out of her house. She wanted them to stop being _potential_ and start being useful, grow inhuman strength capable of attacking Bringers and ancient vampires and incorporeal evils and to bring Spike home. So many of them had suffered loss, of family and friends, home and security, the comfort and ignorance of not having a destiny greater than themselves, but put them together and they became a babbling gang of teenage angst. Yet, right now, they were all she had.

Giles was right about one thing, she was a general, and it was time to reign in her army. For weeks, the girls had complained about being cooped up in the house, listening to long lectures and struggling through tedious workouts, and not seeing anything resembling real action. They weren't ready, but unless Faith died, none of them would ever be equipped with the power to stand a real chance. Sometimes being the slayer, she had learned many times, meant being more than her own power and capabilities. It was about instinct and cleverness, how to protect rather than destroy, to use what she had, not what she wanted to have at her disposal.

Rather than risk breaking down into sobs and screams, Buffy stepped aside and let them at the TV again. She settled for rolling her eyes and stepped into the hallway. An idea was formulating and she needed the girls to think everything was normal.

Taking another deep breath, Buffy thought hard and tried, " _Willow, can you hear me?_ "

There was a moment's hesitation and Buffy felt stupid for trying until, " _Yeah_."

She smiled a little at that. At least something was going right.

" _We're losing them. Can't let that happen. I got an idea. Grab Xander and Tara_."

Willow said, " _Xander, Tara_."

Xander jumped, causing the three girls to grimace at him.

" _What?_ "

Leaving one of the Potentials glowering at him for interrupting the show, Buffy gestured to the kitchen. Once they were all inside, Buffy tried again.

" _I have to slay the Neander-vamp if I'm going to get Spike out of that cave. But I need those girls to see me do it_."

Willow smiled conspiratorially. " _I get it. You wanna put on a show._ "

Xander was frowning and for a second, Buffy thought he was going to put up a fight about saving Spike or bringing the Potentials into the fight. Instead, his frown shifted into a beaming smile.

" _I know the perfect place_."

For the first time in days, Buffy offered her friends a genuine smile. She was going to get her vampire back, or she would die trying.


	17. Chapter 17

Buffy was ready to lead by example, rather than by speeches in which no one listened. The Potentials may have been grating on her last nerve, but she was stuck with them and they depended on her, so she decided it was time for a mutually beneficial relationship. Game face on, she knew very little could stand in her way, regardless of vampire's age and ferocity.

The reality and severity of the situation hovered the closer they got to sundown. The realization that Spike had been in captivity for days, almost a week, worried her more than just for his safety. It very well could be that Anya was right, a dusted Spike might be better off, no matter how much it knocked her out just to think of it. With enough time and torture, Spike could belong to the First, his mind incapacitated, driven insane by torment, bloodlust, and grief. Buffy suspected that the more someone cared, the more susceptible they were to the First's manipulation. She hoped that he was not beyond repair because no matter the circumstances, she was going to save him and she would not give up on him.

As she lay on Spike's cot, the girls stormed the kitchen, chattering away about nothing as they ate her out of groceries. None of them had an inkling about what was to happen that night, and only a small part of Buffy felt guilty about that. She wasn't expecting them to fight just yet, but she needed them to grasp the situation. Sometimes being the slayer meant purposefully putting yourself into difficult and dangerous situations because it was the right thing to do. It wasn't all about dusting fledgling vamps who never got an opportunity to learn their newly undead purpose. Apocalypses, if they could even understand that this was what it was, did not all simply include one Big Bad that could be taken down by sheer force and will by the good guys. It was layered, deep, and complex, and included small battles in which loss and injury could result. They might think her weak that she went down in the first fight with the Ubervamp, but then she had been emotionally distraught and had no idea what a Turok-Han was. Now she knew, and it was still dangerous, but she was willing to take the blows if it proved a point.

Hearing a pounding coming from upstairs, Buffy jumped up, taking the stairs two at a time. At first, the girls were talking too loudly to be perturbed by a knocking, but it was Andrew who interjected, asking if all of them were accounted for. Buffy watched them from her place in the doorway, Xander's eyes fixed on the front door, and Willow and Tara joined hands in preparation of the spell.

The pounding grew more persistent and, the Potentials, realizing what was happening, started to scream. Willow and Tara were murmuring under their breaths, the barrier up, but Buffy knew it wouldn't last long.

One of them shouted, "It's here- that- that thing."

She heard another, "What do we do?"

Locking eyes with Willow, Buffy understood it was time.

"Run," her voice almost croaked, but when she spoke again, it was clear and loud. "Everybody run!"

They were taking her lead, fully willing and unquestioning for the first time. Buffy crossed the kitchen and swung open the back door and watched as they all took off running. The barrier was weakening by the second, the Bringers started to break through and she stabbed one of them as it approached Xander.

With a deafening pop, the barrier burst and the Ubervamp broke in, threatening and exuberant at its triumph. With a final shout to Xander, Willow, and Tara, Buffy took off after the Potentials, needing to guide them towards their big final destination.

If they believed she would be accepting of simply running away from the problem, they were in for a shock. She saw them standing above her on the platform, teary eyes and bewildered expressions, feeling as though they were trapped. It was just her and the Ubervamp now, all eyes wide open and trained on them. The Turok-Han took its time approaching. It had been exasperated by the delay the barrier provided, but seemed to gain more confidence in the chase. It was full of fury, persistent and fierce as it began to lay into her. Buffy fought back, punching and kicking, but somehow not making as much contact as she was receiving. The Ubervamp got a good grasp on her and threw her into the scaffolding, the pain piercing and knocking the breath out of her. A weapon dropped, a crossbow, at her feet that one of the Potentials must have been carrying, and before she could regain any strength, she rushed toward it and stabbed the Ubervamp in the chest. Not even faltering, the Ubervamp still lurked towards her, so Buffy grabbed a pipe and tried lashing out with it. She was using anything she could find, the pipe, an axe, but it wasn't enough. Tossed aside again, Buffy lay on her side, kicked and bloodied, and she thought how easy it would be just to give up and fall into the darkness.

As the Turok-Han threw her again, only to come towards her, lifting her up by the throat, she heard one of the Potentials ask if they could help and Willow telling them to wait. It was the hardest part of the plan in which she had to convince her friends. Let her do this because she could, to show the Potentials and to save Spike. The arrow from the crossbow sticking out in the Ubervamp's chest poked her in the belly and inspiration struck. Reaching for it blindly, her breath gasping and desperate, Buffy broke it off and wrapped the wire around the Ubervamp's neck.

With all of her force, the wire cut through, separating the head, and dust lay at her feet. Buffy fell to the ground, weak and suffering from the battle, but she forced herself up and faced the people watching in awe.

"See," she was surprised her voice wasn't shaking. "Dust, like the rest of them. I don't know what's coming next. But I do know, it's all gonna come down just like this. Hard. Painful. But in the end, it's gonna be us. If we all do our part, believe it, we'll be the ones left standing."

She turned from them then, the path clear as to what she needed to do next, as though she had any other choice.

* * *

Spike was delusional, unsure of when he was dreaming or conscious anymore. The only distinction he had was when the Turok-Han was pounding his flesh, bruising, bloodying, and scarring, and in the sickest way, Spike was grateful for the dose of reality. The First was still tormenting, but those interactions were not so different than the nightmares that tortured his mind. Just like from the beginning, Buffy would come for him, loving and sweet, until suddenly, she was cold and calculating, saying he was worthless, a ruthless killer deserving of every scratch, until he was screaming into the night, never answered.

In this brief respite, Spike tried to focus his mind, convincing himself he was awake, his mantra _she'll come, she'll come, she'll come,_ until, but then, of course, there she was, stumbling towards him in the cave. He laughed, no evident humor, knowing what was to happen now, though he had no antidote for it. The face that approached was far more serious than usual, but exuding warmth that Spike desperately wanted to reach out and touch. The First knew it too, and it kept coming, so close now that he wanted to give in, but he had to try to be strong.

"You can't- You aren't her, you can't-"

But then warm hands touched his cheek and it was strange, because the First had never been able to touch him before, and so he thought he must be dreaming. Spike heard chains hit the floor as the pressure on his body loosened and pain seared. He looked up at her then, looked into her eyes, and he knew, Buffy, it was really her, and he smiled in relief.

She muttered an apology as she wrapped an arm around him and guided him out of the cave and all Spike could think was _she came, she came, she came,_ in order to remain conscious. He had so many questions, so much he wanted to tell her, to warn her, but no sound would come from his mouth, and Buffy seemed so intent on getting home that he didn't bother trying. She looked like hell too and pain worse than physical hit him, wondering just what she had to endure in order to save him, but she had done it anyways, and he couldn't help but wonder what that meant. In time, he was sure they would have a long, intense conversation that he was already dreading.

As they turned the corner, comfort settled in his stomach at the familiarity, and he wondered what Buffy would think that he was starting to see her house as home. On the porch, through slit eyes, he could see the outlines of Dawn, Willow, Tara, and Xander, looking as though they had been waiting and worrying on them. Those final steps proved to be too much. As Spike went to open his mouth for the first time, to say something witty or clever, to offer his thanks and appreciation and love, or anything just to prove that he could, he slumped over and succumbed to the darkness.

* * *

She slept fitfully still, alert to any and all of Spike's moaning and shifting on the bed. She'd kicked the Potentials out of her room, feeling as though she had earned the space and privacy at this point, though the real reasoning was that her and Spike needed more room to heal. After they had gotten him through the door and upstairs, she was glad he had passed out. Ensuring the others that she had him from there, she'd stripped him of his clothes and laid him down in the tub, trying to wash the blood and grime away. She knew, and kept reminding herself, that so long as he wasn't dust, Spike would heal, but his body was battered, covered in wounds.

For a long time, she watched him, just to make sure that he was really there. He did look peaceful now, somehow, as he slept, and she was grateful for that. Wanting to touch him, but knowing she had to be careful, she curled into side, placing her hand over his and hoping to convey healing that way.

When she woke, Spike was still sleeping, so she meandered downstairs to heat up some blood and try to eat something. It was still early, the sun barely up, and so everyone was still asleep. Buffy suspected they would remain that way for a long time as the excitement of the night before kept everyone up a lot later than usual. Had she not still been in pain and worried over her vampire, she might have reveled in enjoying the silence for a little longer. Instead, she hurried back upstairs in time to find Spike stirring.

She cringed at the pain on his face as he attempted to sit up and acclimate to his surroundings.

"Spike?"

He turned, surprised to find her before him, and to find himself in her room.

"It's real."

"Yes."

"You came."

"Of course."

"Knew you would," and she couldn't help but smile at that.

"Spike," she said again, and suddenly she couldn't be close enough. "Are you- Well, does it hurt?" She cringed again, knowing that of course it did.

"Nothing that won't heal."

Buffy sat down on the bed beside him, staring at him and basking in the fact that he was really there, and seemingly as sane as he could be.

"Is that blood?" he asked after a moment.

"Wha-? Oh! Yes, of course. You're going to need a lot of it."

She watched as he drank his blood, the hunger and desperateness evident as he vamped out and sucked it down in one gulp. Catching her staring again, he switched back to his human visage, wiping his mouth, and looking apologetic.

"No, I- Don't be sorry. It's not that, I just- I'm so happy you're actually here."

"Buffy, I should warn you, there's this thing, this creature-"

"The Turok-Han."

"Some kind of- What?"

"Ubervamp. Yeah, I met him. Dusted him, actually, but he put up a fight, which is why it took me so long to get to you."

Spike was looking at her, full of awe, a look that once made her nauseous, but now filled her with such an alarming amount of warmth and love that it scared her.

"I'm sorry it-"

"Don't-"

"What?"

"Don't be sorry."

"I am sorry though, that you were taken in the first place. I wasn't- I had my guard down and-"

She stopped at the angry expression on his face and for once, decided not to fight against it.

"I missed you, Spike. I-" _love you so much that it hurts._ The words were on her tongue, screaming to echo out of her mouth, but then he grimaced in pain again and she knew she didn't want him to find out like this. Buffy wouldn't wait as long as she wanted, until this apocalypse was finished, the First gone, along with Spike's trigger, not to mention all of the Potentials and their dependency on her. She couldn't wait to take her time until they were alone and unbothered, both healed and no longer drowning in grief. But she would wait, just a little while longer so that Spike could grow accustomed to being home again before he, and the rest of the house, understood his role in this fight and his place in her heart.

"I'm just really glad you're home."

For now, she settled on cuddling up as close as she could get without hurting him, comforted by the look of shock and awe on his face at her words, the fact he was home, and for now, no one was awake to bother them.

* * *

Buffy was sleeping and though he was still in excruciating pain, Spike was content just to watch her. The threat may still be looming and dangerous, he and the trigger only adding to that, but she had fought for him, bringing him home with her, home being the word she used, and for right now, that was enough. Part of him was still telling himself he didn't deserve this, but he knew her well enough to know he couldn't convince Buffy otherwise when her mind was made up.

He had been sitting up against the headboard, but was still exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to lie down next to her. It took a lot more energy than usual and despite his carefulness, could not stifle the noisiness of his shifting. She opened her eyes as he laid his head down next to her and she smiled at him.

"You okay?"

"Never better," and he meant it.

"Do you need-"

"Just relax for right now, Luv. 'M alright."

"But-"

"Stop your worryin', there'll be enough time for that."

She smiled, acquiescing and settled back against the pillow. She said, "God, I'm just so happy you're back. It's been so- I mean, the others, they just don't-"

He puffed up a little, voice firm. "I'll be in fighting form again soon, I promise. You'll have your soldier back."

Eyes wide, she pleaded for him to understand, "That's not why I need you here."

"That right? Why's that then?"

"Because I'm not ready for you not to be here."

His eyes grew wider, that awe returning, looking as though he wanted nothing more than to question her on that. Words wouldn't offer enough of an explanation, so careful not to hurt either of them, Buffy closed the gap between them, brushing her lips against his.


	18. Chapter 18

The moment didn't last long. Her lips barely tasted his, his lips barely registered what was happening, when she heard her name bellowed from below. With a groan, it was Spike who pulled away first, bewildered and almost wild-looking, as though she might grow angry and turn the blame on him. Trying to soothe the look of panic, Buffy reached a hand up to his face when the voice sounded again. She wanted to explore the look of awe he was gifting her, but she didn't want to descend the stairs into a fit of chaos, so with a sigh, she got up from the bed, offering Spike a look of regret.

"I'll be back, with more blood," she paused, rolling her eyes, "After we settle this latest crisis."

His eyes didn't leave hers, but the expression remained frozen across his face, and she tried to smile, before sighing again and stepping into the hallway.

"Buffy!"

It was getting harder to decipher whose voice rung out throughout the house anymore. High-pitched screams could be from any of the Potentials, Dawn, or Andrew, and all of them whiny. Reaching the kitchen, she took a deep breath before stepping around the corner to find a group of girls and Andrew arguing over what looked like a box of Poptarts. They all opened their mouths to state their points, but when Buffy glared at them, arms crossed at her chest, they stopped.

"Someone, uh, ate the last Poptart," Dawn offered, at least sheepishly.

With a lot less subtlety, Andrew said, "And that someone was not on the list for Poptarts."

"So just to be clear, we're out of Poptarts now?"

A lot of muffled responses echoed back at her and Buffy felt a headache growing.

"Then there's nothing I can do about it right now."

"But, someone- they need to learn a lesson!"

"Fine, whoever ate the last Poptart, don't eat the last Poptart without alerting everyone else in the house. "As protests rang out around her, Buffy stalked over to the fridge and flung open the door. "I can't bring myself to care right now. Every time I turn around, I've got another fire to put out. I have to work, train you all, somehow fit everyone into this house, and feed all of these endless pits you call stomachs, and I've got-"

Finding the blood, Buffy slammed the door shut to emphasize her point and looked at them.

"A vampire to feed?"

In the midst of girls, Buffy found one of them, Kennedy, she thought, eyeing her with judgment.

"Huh?"

"Is this about Spike?" Andrew's eyes looked gleeful.

Buffy frowned at the blood in her hand, but glared back at Kennedy. "He's recovering."

"Do we really think it's safe, having an obviously dangerous vampire living upstairs in your bedroom?"

Had the implication that Spike wasn't worthy of being helped not enough, Buffy would have lost it at the suggestive way she said bedroom.

"Spike is one of the good guys. We always help our team. Instead of fighting over Poptarts, why don't you all scrounge up something else to eat and just-"

"Morning, ladies-" a beaming Xander came into the kitchen, "And Andrew. I brought breakfast!"

At the bundle of grocery bags he plopped down on the table, more Poptarts among them, Buffy changed her eye roll into a grateful glance at Xander and escaped from the kitchen. She was raging at the lot of them. Buffy understood that none of them were here to appreciate all that Spike had done for them, and sure, his being a vampire didn't help, and she didn't exactly want to discourage their assumptions about demons, considering how few of them were like Spike, or Angel for that matter. But they had seen how she fought for him, how she'd fought and done for them, and for that, Buffy thought her judgment at least deserved some respect.

Still glowering as she made it back to her bedroom, she walked in to find Spike looking at her with wide eyes. Apparently, he assumed she was mad at him, again, and that stung too, his still not trusting her.

"Those girls," she growled, but with a slight smile.

"Oh- Right, uh, nothin' but trouble." He offered her a sympathetic glance, but seemed to sink in relief that the ire wasn't currently aimed at him.

"So, I- Here's breakfast. I have to get to work," and she didn't think she could convey how sorry she was to leave. "Do you think you'll be okay here? I'll ask Dawn to check in, though I can't promise she won't be overly doting. And I can check in with Willow and Tara to stop by between classes. If any of the girls, or Andrew for that matter, bother you, I want you to call me right away. I'll leave the number and-"

"I'm fine, Luv. Vampire healing. 'T's all I need. Just time. You go off to work and I'll just lie here and- I mean, I'll make it back to the basement, once it dies down a bit downstairs."

She tried to keep a stoic face at the panic rising in his voice. "Feel free to stay as long as you want. It's the last private space we've got left."

As she went off to shower, Buffy knew she was being cryptic. Right now, she did have to get to work and didn't have the time to have the conversation her and Spike needed. She didn't want to offer him promises she couldn't immediately prove, leaving him to make assumptions or second guess himself. The man was already broody enough.

When she came back, dried and dressed, she found the empty carton of blood sitting on her dresser and an empty bed.

Panic flushed through her and she stormed down the stairs, past the chattering, curious, and devouring Potentials who looked at her like she was insane.

"Your vampire friend went downstairs."

Not stopping to inquire more, Buffy flew open the basement door and ran down the stairs.

"Buffy-"

"Xander," her eyes flashed, alight with betrayal. They'd had this conversation before she'd gone and gotten Spike back. He knew better than this. "What are you doing?"

Looking sheepishly at the chains he held up to Spike's wrists, he turned towards Buffy.

"I asked him to, Luv. Didn't want to bother you and-"

"Bother me. _Bother me-_ Spike, I- I told you to take all the time you need. Being down here, tied up like that, it's not-"

"You're not going to be here today and there's no telling when the First will come back and- You're my best defense, Buffy. And I know you've- you've been great, but I won't- I can't hurt them. Or you. So chains, it is."

"I-" She glared at Xander. "I-" She could feel the headache growing and the day had barely begun. She turned back towards Spike and saw how weak he still looked. "I won't argue on this. At least not now. If it makes you feel better, fine, wear the chains. I'll be back later."

As she stomped back up the stairs, she heard Spike mutter, "Could've been worse, yeah?" as Xander chuckled, and there was a glimmer of hope in that.

* * *

Each day seemed busier than the one before and yet so few things had happened in regards to a preventative apocalypse plan. Every morning, Buffy stopped in the basement to offer him a pint of blood and each night she made sure to tell him goodnight, the pleading for him to join her upstairs on the tip of her tongue. She thought she'd made it clear when she brought him to her bed in the first place, but Spike was most content these days in chains, and it made her heart hurt. The work days offered a brief, controlled-sort of chaos compared to home. After afternoons of training, Buffy patrolled each night, Spike joining her like a shadow, as she took a few of the Potentials with her at a time.

After one particularly nasty long day, Buffy was considering the benefits of running away, when Giles mentioned taking the Potentials away for a retreat. She didn't need the lengthy list of details he was droning on about before she checked out of the conversation, nearly drooling at the freedom it offered, however temporary. By the end of the day, she suggested Dawn and Andrew join the girls on the trip, convinced Willow and Tara to take some time away for themselves, and hinted that it would be an excellent time for Xander to expend some extra energy on Anya back at his apartment.

Feeling particularly joyful as she waved them all away in the early morning, Buffy enjoyed a leisurely breakfast and shower before heading downstairs to the basement. Spike was still sleeping, which was the only time she could really inspect his injuries, though if she ever dared get to close, he'd wake up growling. This time, she found him sitting up in bed, a book between his chained hands.

"Where'd the Potential Parade get off to this early?"

"Oh," she said with faux enthusiasm. "Did I forget to mention? Giles took them off to a retreat for the weekend."

"Tragic."

She grinned at him and sat down on the cot, feeling warm. It was so rare these days to see old sense of humor, however sarcastic, and she missed it.

"So we've got a few days to ourselves-"

Spike looked hopeful for a moment, but then chagrined that he should even allow himself that hope and she sighed.

"I thought we could take some time to figure out that trigger. Get you out of those chains."

"Buffy-"

She waited, her argument ready, to hear him out, but then he didn't speak.

"Yeah?"

"Ow-"

"Ow?"

Spike's hand shot up to his forehead. "Ow. Ow!"

"Spike?" She stood up, unsure of what to do as he convulsed in pain. "Spike?"

"'M fine," she could tell he was gritting his teeth. "Just- ow!"

Taking the hand clenching at the blankets, Buffy felt helpless, rubbing soothing circles on his palm and waiting for him to ride out the pain. Once he had finished, resting for the moment, she ran upstairs to get tissues for his bleeding nose and ice for his forehead.

It happened a few times, sudden and powerful, leaving both of them exhausted messes. She was on the verge of tears, unwilling to leave his side as he fought through it, but wanting to do something to help. Once he was sleeping, she snuck out to call Willow, asking her friend if she knew anything about the chip the Initiative had implanted so long ago now. That it was firing without provocation was worrying her more than the First's hold over him. At least with that, she could slap it out of him, though she was sick of causing him more pain. Willow hadn't had much more information than her, and Tara offered to make a healing remedy.

Even if she had been able to reach Giles, Buffy wasn't sure that she would. Spike was already a sensitive topic between them and she wasn't going to provide him anymore ammunition against Spike. Sighing, and knowing exactly what Spike would think about the suggestion, Buffy tried reaching out to Riley to no avail.

As he was once again a reluctant patient, Buffy was trying not to get annoyed with Spike, but if he suggested one more time, however much he tried to phrase it as a joke, that it would be easier to stake him, she was going to dig into his skull and pull the chip out herself. But wasn't that an interesting idea? The chip. He had the soul now, had gotten the soul for her trying to be better. He didn't need the chip anymore. Yes, it had been convenient in the beginning, particularly in stifling his Big Bad tendencies, but in the end, it had brought her Spike to her, had shown her his good side, and so she couldn't hate it for that. But it was wrong, ultimately, and put him at even more risk.

"Buffy," he gasped at her after another bout of pain. "Not sure how much of this I can take, Luv. I know- you're doing the best you can and- I keep, but-"

Sitting up, the idea now firm in her mind, Buffy ignored his rant.

"Do you trust me, Spike?"

"Course," though she noted he didn't look her in the eyes.

"Let's go."

"Where-?"

* * *

The bird was dafter than he even suspected when he'd first met her. He was in her bed now, hours later, the slayer in question asleep beside him, a little out of it, but recovering. The chip was gone, had been on her orders. Turned out the bint had made a call to her ex when he'd been incapacitated and for once, the solider had delivered. Apparently, she thought it was better he be chip-free entirely, rather than doing a quick-fix. Part of him admired her for it, appreciated that she didn't want to see him in pain, and that she trusted him, the soul, enough to be off his leash. The other part of him was panicking. Not only had he proved how easily controlled he was by the First, but now the rest of the people in the house had reason to worry. Spike wondered what she'd tell them, if she'd tell them, and decided he'd keep his mouth shut. No bragging to the Whelp about it with empty threats, not that he spoke to any of them very often anyways. He'd worry about it more in a few hours, when the house was full again and he was back in his cot and chains, away from the warm body resting beside him.

* * *

Buffy didn't seem bothered by the lack of chip in his head. He watched her, carefully, over the next few days to see how she reacted, though for her, the chip hadn't been working for awhile so maybe it was just muscle memory. As a test, he allowed himself to spend a little more time with Dawn, helping her with homework or sneaking in an episode of _Passions_ when the Potentials were busy training. He'd even gone chain-free for a bit, when Buffy was home and close, and he'd walk around the house, grabbing blood from the fridge or watching one of the training sessions.

In his observations, he'd been seeking any sign of discomfort or suspicion: a flinch, narrowed eyes, anything. She paid equal attention back, but there was no malice behind it. Instead, he noticed her eyes light up when he walked in the room, encouraging Dawn to take his advice, joining them on the couch for a few minutes and asking endless questions about the episode, and inviting him to spar with her or talk battle strategy.

The thing that had really knocked him off his feet was her reveal to Giles and the Potentials that she had the chip taken out of his head. None of the other members of the Scooby gang looked surprised, and that shocked him too, that they'd already had that conversation and the boy hadn't tried to stake him. She, and he following her lead, acted like naughty children caught in a forbidden act, as the Watcher glowered at them, but she remained unapologetic. So that was something, along with all the other somethings, that were making him feel far more hopeful than he should allow himself to feel.

Chain-free life was happening more frequently and Spike found he liked being up and moving, both from a physical and emotional healing standpoint. Even the Potentials who eyed him warily, were warming to his presence. Sometimes, he even allowed himself all of these different fantasies of how he might find himself invited back into Buffy's bed, even if it were just to sleep. But then he'd catch the bint, or one of the many other of them, staring at him with weird looks, and he'd shake himself out of it.

It had been a particularly average day, busy with girly things, but not overly annoying, and he thought he might make it a little better by suggesting just him and Buffy go out for patrol that night. It was hard to call it a coincidence that she seemed happier, lighter than usual since he'd been less mopey and more present, and he was getting a little braver from it, testing his limits.

The Potentials, along with the Dawn and Andrew, and supervised by an annoyed and reluctant Giles trying to read in the corner, were crowded around the TV in the living room watching one of those teen rom-coms he'd seen once with Dawn. The witches were off in the library, which he suspected was their favorite and best excuse for alone time, while Anya was off cavorting with some old demon friends of hers, trying to get some information on the First, but probably just causing mayhem somewhere.

He'd looked everywhere for Buffy. She wasn't among the crowd in the living room, nor was she in the kitchen. He'd even double-checked the basement to make sure she wasn't looking for him there. A bubble of excitement was growing in his stomach, thinking that she might be upstairs and what could happen with everyone else down here and blissfully ignorant, when he came face-to-face with the Whelp, devouring a bag of potato chips.

"Vampire."

"Have you seen Buffy?"

"What?" he said between mouthfuls, suddenly looking awkward and unsure. "I- uh. She didn't tell you?"

Spike's stomach dropped, but he felt the rest of him tingle, the warrior in him anticipating a possible fight.

"Tell me what?"

"Well, uh, she's out with the principal. On a date."


	19. Chapter 19

So maybe she should have realized this was a date. All of it was irresponsible on her part, the staying late at work because she couldn't stand the prospect of going home and being bombarded, and then she'd fallen asleep at her desk, which knocked out her usual common sense. When Robin had first come into her office and asked to talk, she was so relieved he wasn't reprimanding her, that she barely registered what he was saying. And it sounded nice, having a valid excuse to not be home, since he was always acting suspiciously, and so she grasped at the invitation. She'd barely gone home, just to change, and ran into Xander to explain that she was going out to dinner. In hindsight, Xander wasn't fully listening to her explanation of how principal equals weird and of course he'd made his own assumptions. It wasn't until Willow had asked skeptically and Dawn refused to talk to her that Buffy realized it was a date.

And she hadn't talked to Spike first, to explain that she hadn't intended the dinner to be a date, mostly because he was busy talking strategy with the girls when she stopped home, and she didn't want to distract or discourage that behavior.

It wasn't that dinner was bad, in fact, she found herself enjoying the company of this handsome, smart, funny man, who knew his food, and God, it had been so long since she'd actually savored anything she'd eaten, but the whole time, all she could think about was what Spike would think about Robin. The whole flirting with Buffy thing would have freaked him out, providing Spike a biased opinion of the man, but Spike had good instincts, and so did Buffy, and something was off. Once Robin revealed he knew about vampires and slayers and that she was the Chosen one, part of her wanted to allow her instincts to be soothed, but still, her suspicions remained. She'd be cautious with this one, allowing him into that world, but keeping him at a distance, particularly of the platonic sort.

Before she could even go downstairs to check on Spike, hoping that he had no idea where she'd gone or with whom, she had to prove to Dawn that her intentions with Robin were not romantic. Her sister was going back and forth between stony silence and hushed, stern lecturing. Buffy was cornered in the kitchen, an amused Willow and concerned Tara along with them, waiting for her turn to speak.

"Dawnie-"

"He trusted you-"

"But-"

"He still loves you-"

"Sweetie-"

"You're taking advantage of that love, holding him here, acting enough like you care that he sticks by you, giving just enough hope, but keeping him far enough away for him not to-" Dawn sucked in a deep breath, let her arms fall at her side, and stood up taller. "It's fine if you don't love him, though I think you're just too stubborn to allow yourself to realize it, but if this is all that you're going to offer him then-"

"Don't you dare tell me how I feel about Spike."

"Someone has to, you're-"

"Trying to hold everything together. In case you haven't noticed, Dawn, these past few years, bad things keep happening, growing worse and worse, and I understand it's not just my battles, but- everyone's looking at me for guidance, you, my friends, these girls, and Spike, God Spike, and this house, it used to be my safe space, where I could just be me, regular old Buffy, not 'Chosen, the,' and I miss it, but I have to be General now and-"

Buffy looked at Dawn, Willow, and Tara, and noticed they were looking at her, wide eyes, Dawn looking as though she had been slapped, Willow worrying at her bottom lip, and Tara even more nervous than usual.

"I'd love to be able to sort everything into neat little packages, including the vampire in my basement, but feelings are complicated and messy, and I just have to- Oh my God, I have to tell him."

If it were possible, Dawn's eyes widened even further. "What?"

"I have to tell him!"

"Tell him?" Willow looked surprised. "Tell him what?"

"I- That I- I can't tell you, not before I tell him."

Between Dawn's happy squealing, and what appeared to be Willow's acceptance, if support even, it was Tara's voice that reached her in a quiet whisper.

"If I distract them, you could sneak down. I'm sure he's just as eager to hear it, as you are to say it."

Buffy gave Tara a grateful, but questioning smile, as her friend turned away and said in a loud voice, "Oh, I found more cookies!"

Out of nowhere, Potentials swarmed the kitchen. The warrior in Buffy reacted instinctively to this sudden attack, but once she realized what was happening, her smile grew and she snuck through the crowd and down the stairs.

* * *

Spike heard the quiet click of the door. He'd been pacing the basement since talking to the Whelp, wanting desperately to go outside and run, fight, destroy, but he didn't think that would sit well with the slayer. The damned slayer, who really he had no right to be angry with at the moment, just because he'd gotten his hopes up again. He was a damn fool and he knew it. No amount of cigarettes or shots of whiskey were enough.

Back before the soul, when she'd been coming to him for release and the darkness in him latched onto the darkness in her, he'd thought her rejection hurt. The soul magnified every single ounce of loss, pain, and heartbreak by a thousand. He knew he didn't deserve it, that she couldn't love him, but he couldn't help but love her anyways, and the pointlessness of it devastated him.

At the sound of the door shutting, the deep breath she sucked in, the steps down the stairs, Spike froze before rushing back to his cot, hoping he might get away with fake sleeping, so as to avoid any type of conversation, possibly forever.

Wasn't it stupid, how the fact that she hadn't told him herself gave him some kind of hope? That she at least was being a little considerate of his obvious feelings- Or, was it that she was completely oblivious and didn't care at all, allowing Xander of all people to let him know. Spike imagined it, the "Oh, hey, Xand, hold down the fort tonight. Make sure Dawn finishes her homework, don't let the girls kill each other, and let Spike know that I'm dating the principal. Kay, thanks."

Spike could imagine it, but he didn't actually believe her acting so cruelly. She'd moved on, and he'd have to accept that. But sod it all to hell, it hurt.

His little fantasy prevented him from making it to the cot in time to fake sleep, so instead, Buffy caught him just as he sat down, both looking at each other with wide eyes, as though she'd been hoping she'd find him asleep.

After awhile, he couldn't stand the silence or her stares. "No cookies down here, Pet."

"Huh?"

Bloody adorable, she was, and Spike knew he'd never stop fighting her battles or he'd die trying. Pathetic he was, but he shook it off and tried for cool, "Isn't that what all the commotion was about?"

"Oh, right, cookies. It was a ruse."

"Well, sure."

More awkward silence ensued and Spike found he missed the comfortable silence they used to be able to sit through.

"Something I can do for you, Slayer?"

"I- No, well, yes. Maybe."

When he only arched an eyebrow in response, Buffy sighed and walked over to the cot, hesitating for a moment before sitting beside him.

"I went out with the principal tonight."

"Mighta heard something about that."

Despite the soul and the love he had for this woman, Spike could not help but feel a sliver of satisfaction at the panic that rose in her eyes.

"Demon-Magnet told me."

"Spike-"

"We don't need to have this conversation."

"What?"

"You don't have to explain yourself. What we had, it was barely- It's in the past, yeah? And- I'm not bloody stupid, you know?"

Color flooded her face at his words and it surprised him, the anger he found there.

"Looks it from here," she threw back at him.

"'Scuse me?"

She sat back, arms across her chest, pouting in defiance. "You're looking pretty stupid right now."

Now he was growing angry. He was trying to give her an out here, keep it cool and casual, and the bloody bint was ruining it. "How's that then?"

"I had dinner with Robin, my boss, who just happens to be a man, a man who we've both been thinking's been acting suspiciously, and for the record, we were right, the guy knows an awful lot about vampires and slayers and that I am one, but that's not-"

Spike stood, almost knocking her over.

"He knows you're the Slayer?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Who's the bloody stupid one?"

Buffy stood up at that. "Still you, moron. I didn't tell him, he just knew. His mother was one. She died."

Mouth open, Spike shut it abruptly. That wasn't promising, considering he had quite a few run-ins with the past few slayers.

"Spike?" She reached a hand up to touch his shoulder, but Spike shook himself out of his reverie, pulling away and sitting back down.

"Innit good, then? Got yourself another warrior."

Another sigh, and Buffy joined him on the cot again.

"I didn't come downstairs to talk about potential warriors."

"Don't think I want to hear the other side of the conversation right now."

Was that amusement on her face now? It pissed Spike off more.

"No? I don't think you know what the other side of the conversation entails. _Bloody_ stupid, just like I thought." At the gobsmacked expression on his face, Buffy's smirk grew into a full smile. "Oh my God, this is so weird."

"What the hell are you on about?"

"I didn't go on a date tonight." She frowned. "Well, I didn't intend to, though I guess I can see that it looks like I did and-"

"Buffy-"

"Xander got the story wrong, anyways, which is probably my fault for telling him in the first place without telling y-"

"Slayer!"

"Huh? Right, sorry, going off track again. Like I said, this is all sorts of weird."

She waited, not so much from hesitation, but to enjoy his look of exasperation, how Spike could love her so much and yet, find her to be the most annoying thing in his world, to savor the last look he'd give her before she changed his world. But wasn't that kind of egocentric to think- and there she was going off subject again. Buffy cleared her throat.

"As I was saying, even if Robin-" she ignored the growl that escaped from Spike's throat, "believed tonight to be a date, it was never even a possibility in my mind."

Spike made a non-committal sound in his throat as his response. She could tell he was trying to relax, to stave off the hope that was growing in his eyes.

"Because somehow, over these past few months, I've kind of, sort of-"

"Buffy!"

They both groaned at the voice that called her from above. Spike shifted away from her, shaking his head and turning his attention to the top of the stairs.

"Better get up there, sounds apoca-"

"Lyptic?" she offered, and then she kissed him. There was no time for taking in the moment, they were running out of time for moments to share, and despite that fact or whoever might need her right now, she was fairly certain, she had a second for this.

"Buffy!"

She broke off with a pop, Spike shell-shocked and unmoving, jumped up and faced the top of the stairs from her perch at the bottom, hands on hips.

"If this is about cookies, Poptarts, or any other trivial food or otherwise problem, and I walk up these stairs, I will demolish the rest of the slayer lineage myself. So either shut up, shut the door, and figure it out yourself, or pray that another Turok Han is waiting for me upstairs."

The door clicked shut almost automatically. Buffy turned around with a mischievous smirk towards the befuddled vampire. She walked slowly, Spike's mind fuzzy, trying to predict what was about to happen, still catching up on what had just happened.

Sitting down, she took his face in her hands, pulled him towards her, and kissed him again, less desperate, but lingering this time.

"I don't want to date anyone else," she was surprised by the shaking whisper her voice had turned into.

"Why's that, then?"

The shaking in his voice, firmed up her own.

"I'm in love with you."

For one terrifying moment, she wasn't certain she'd even managed to say it out loud, or that he was going to laugh in her face, as his eyes widened and he looked like he might vomit, but then his lips were on hers. He had her pressed down into the mattress, and she made a quick note to drag him back up to her room now that he wasn't relying so heavily on the chains, before succumbing completely to the feelings rushing through her- pleasure, relief, joy, fear.

His lips on hers, his body against hers, reuniting, it was bliss. Had Buffy not had to breathe, she never would have broken apart. As it was, she did, and so she pulled away gently, catching her breath and offering Spike a shy smile. He looked just as shocked, but punch-drunk and overjoyed.

"Buffy-"

"I know," she smiled, still shaking, in a tingly, yummy sort of way and kissed him again.

"Buffy-" this time it was a different inflection of British accent that called to her, forcing her to pry herself off of Spike and seek the source. She had no words for Giles, not wanting to have that sort of conversation right now, especially when she was riding such a high, and she certainly didn't want to ruin this moment between her and Spike. Instead, they both stared mutely at her Watcher.

Giles swiped his glasses off his face, cleared his throat, and glared at the pair of them.

He said, "When you've quite finished, we've found ourselves a situation hovering just slightly above cookie level. You've got a visitor," then turned and stomped up the stairs.

Buffy and Spike looked at each other, both nervous. Spike looked like he'd swallowed a frog and she knew, he was afraid she'd take it all back.

"Watcher of yours got terrible timing."

Laughing, she kissed him, took his hand, and pulled him off the cot. "I still love you, you know?"

As his face showed that he still wasn't allowing himself to believe it, Buffy promised that once she got rid of this cryptic visitor, she was going to take as much time as she needed to prove it.


	20. Chapter 20

Buffy was trying really hard to remain calm. So her kind-of, new-ish boyfriend killed her boss' mother, years ago, and the pair had stared at each other for a long time in her living room. Robin had known right away and Buffy suspected something was up, feeling her defenses rise. Spike hadn't the same recognition, though he appeared to want to claim his territory over her in an almost sweet, albeit irritating way.

Robin had voiced the story in front of everyone, him and the majority of Potentials ignoring her insistence that not only did Spike now have a soul, but he had changed quite a bit before that. As she lay in bed, she could still hear their murmuring about it downstairs and it made her stomach clench, knowing that Spike could too.

The infuriating pain in the ass vampire should have been at least lying beside her now, basking in post-reunion snuggles, but had instead stampeded back down to the basement thanks to a Robin-inspired fight. The calm, rational part of her knew Spike was more bothered by the reminder of his past deeds than any gossiping the Potentials could dish, and that he had lashed out at her in the fear that she'd reject him. As though she hadn't already run down all of the negatives of romancing a formerly evil vampire, although, she hadn't exactly had the time to share that with him.

Everything just seemed hard and complicated, and it had been so easy to be mad back at him. And yet, hours later, alone, she regretted her quick temper. She loved this sweet, sensitive Spike, but she had fallen in love with the warrior who ended a fight with his mouth on hers, pushing her to the truth or resolution, and not giving up on her or himself rather than running away like a wounded puppy dog. She had Angel for that.

Really, Spike was lucky she loved him enough to like him through his martyrdom. Sighing, Buffy waited for the last of the whispers to die down before rolling out of bed and sneaking downstairs. He was feigning sleep when she got to his bed, but instead of socking him like she wanted, she edged him over and scooted in beside him. His arms encircled her waist, his head coming to rest on her shoulder, and she knew, for right now, it was going to be okay.

* * *

Spike woke just as the sun was beginning to filter through his little window, his face burrowed in Buffy's hair, arms around her waist, and thought, if only he could dust now, life would be perfect. Despite himself and the risks, he wanted more. He felt like a right prat at the moment, thanks to his behavior the night before. Even in his darkest, most pitiful moments, he was never one for brooding. When Dru left him, he had grieved and wailed and been right pissed off, and he had wanted everyone to know of his suffering. Remorse had caused considerable damage on his psyche, as it should, but it prevented him from being pleased by his happiness, however fleeting. He knew he didn't deserve the woman in his arms, the past few years of do-gooding could not make up for just one of the deaths that he caused, and yet, he wanted to come to terms with everything, he wanted to have a chance with this girl.

When Robin had first walked through the door, Spike felt the tingling threats reverberating from the man, but he assumed it was something to do with Buffy. The slayer hadn't exactly gone into detail about what their dinner had entailed, just the basics about how Robin knew about her being the slayer and that from her standpoint at least, it hadn't been a date. As he guessed, the principal didn't seem to agree, and he looked too warmly at Buffy before turning his icy glare upon Spike. He had been weighing the pros and cons of sweeping Buffy off her feet and kissing her senseless followed by her fists and utterings of protest, when Robin admitted to who he was. The guy hated him, and Spike could not blame him for that. It wasn't the ugly truth that had driven him back to the self-loathing, but the expression on Buffy's face as she heard the truth. It was one thing for her to imagine, and to remember, how he had acted in the past, but to actually see one of his victims standing before her, to realize the magnitude of pain and loss he had caused another being, that made him want to crawl out of his skin. Those deaths never left him, not since the soul, but Spike could pretend, once in awhile, that Buffy only ever needed to know who he was now. It wasn't fair to her or to him, and the reminder of how much pain Spike had caused, and could cause, was enough to force him to pull up the divide between him and Buffy.

A little voice inside his head, his own, pleaded with him to approach this topic delicately, but the man was glowering at him as Giles approached him for a deeper conversation Spike did not want to hear, as the Potentials had been silenced for a rare moment before breaking out into excited chattering, as the Scoobys looked at Buffy for confirmation and further action, and Buffy turned towards him, a little less shock on her face. She had opened her mouth and the rational Spike voice was drowned out by the panicky Spike not looking forward to losing what he had only just gained. He ran, practically sprinted down the stairs to the basement, even though he really wanted to go out the back door and into night, and wished he could prevent her from following.

Buffy was mad before he opened his mouth and he expected her to call him out for killing her sister slayer, even though technically, she had already known about it, when she started berating him for trying to run away from her. He wanted to tell her that she was the only one he wanted to run to, that everyone else was just too much, but the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he went on and on about how he was a bad, bad man who she should turn to dust or at least stay far away from because she knew, more than anyone, how flimsy a soul could be. Her eyes had softened for a flicker of a moment before they turned hard again and he had drowned out the rest of her words, not wanting to be comforted or lectured. When she realized he had given up on their fight, the second he had sat down on the cot, she flung her arms up in the air, rolled her eyes, and stormed away from him.

It was a relief, when she left him there, as much as it killed him. But then, after a few hours, loneliness and regret settled, and she came to him, his savior, and he had almost cried in his efforts to keep his eyes shut. He knew, if he opened them, he'd also open his mouth, and blow it all to hell again. When she laid down beside him, he'd sighed in relief, pulling her close to him, and she sagged into him a little deeper. Still beside him, sleeping peacefully, Spike realized it wasn't just that he needed her, but she needed him as warrior, confidant, friend, and lover. She needed him as much as she wanted him, and Spike thanked the Powers That Be for that opportunity. It wasn't about what he deserved anymore, but what she deserved, and so he needed to try a little harder.

Impatience made him shiver, waiting for her to wake up, but when she began to stir, it suddenly was too soon. Buffy rolled over, staying close, as she looked at him through bleary, tired eyes. Her gaze was neither soft nor hard, but focused and wondering. He could bollocks this up so easily and had very little chance of getting it just right. The self-pity, fear, and grief hovered, but he swallowed and looked back at her, into her eyes without shame for the first time since he had gotten his soul, and he smiled.

"Spike."

"'M sorry, Luv. I-"

"Need to see the larger picture? Stop feeling bad for yourself? Quit pushing me away when I'm only trying to help you?"

The tone of her voice made him pause, but then she followed up her words with a smile and a slight prod of her fingers against his bicep to continue.

"Among other things, yeah. I just don't want you to feel like you always have to save me." She opened her mouth, but he cut her off with a quick kiss, lingering for a moment to savor it. "Not that I don't need all the savin', or that I don't appreciate it, but neither of us want to see this as pity. 've loved you for so long and before it was easy, you were this beacon of light that made me want to be better, but I didn't really appreciate what being better entailed, what it would make me feel. You were my conscience and you're so good that- that it all seemed to make sense. With me as my own conscience, with my own soul, it's not as pure or light or good, despite how much I want it to be and it hurts."

"I want to help you, Spike, but you keep pushing me away. I've got this huge battle coming, all of these young kids relying on me, and friends and a sister who are fighting for my attention too. I don't expect this to be easy, thanks to mistakes we both made in our relationship, but I think, if we could find our own version of normal and happy, it could help make everything else easier."

"What can I do to make that happen?"

"Start by trusting me, that every little expression or thought that crosses over me is not going to alter how I feel about you. I'm not blind, Spike, I've seen who you were when you were evil, I know all about what you've done, but I've also seen the man you've become, not because of me as much as you think. I lo- love that man, I love you, and I miss him. Feel bad for what you've done, but come to terms with it. Nothing you do now can change what you did then, but you can work every single moment of your life to- You stopped listening after I told you I loved you, didn't you?"

A wide smile broke over his face and he nuzzled his face into her neck.

"Can't help it, I'm-"

"Happy?" Spike pulled away, frowning. "Oh, no you don't." Buffy reached over, kissing the side of his mouth and taking his hand. "You're happy. I'm happy. Let's be happy, Spike. We don't get a lot of that these days."

"Buffy-"

"Spike. Are you happy with me?"

"More'n I deserve."

"I think we can handle that, if you can. If nothing else, the two of us can be happy together."

"Can't imagine what that's like."

"Kind of disgusting actually."

Smiling, Spike allowed himself one final second of hesitation before his eyes fluttered shut and he leaned towards Buffy. It was relief, making the choice to be happy, if only with and for her, but at the moment, all he could focus on was his mouth on hers and how easily they fit together. He was crushing her against him, but she didn't seem to mind as she clutched the back of his t-shirt in her balled up fists. Buffy broke apart first, gasping for breath, but still smiling.

"It's still technically night, you know. The girls will be sleeping for hours still."

"Better take advantage of our time together then."

She opened her mouth, another quip on her tongue, when Spike replaced it with his own.

* * *

She was tingling still, walking up the stairs. In a perfect world, she'd already be upstairs and freshly showered before the girls invaded her kitchen. The butterflies, both from her excitement of everything with Spike and her nerves at the anticipation of everyone's reactions carried her up the stairs.

The kitchen went silent when she opened the door and she found too many pairs of eyes staring at her. Head held high, Spike's hand in hers, she swung the door open all the way and pulled both of them through.

"Morning."

The faces she allowed herself to look at were staring at her wide-eyed and mouths gaping open. Beside her, she saw Spike's expression mirroring theirs, looking at her, waiting to see how she would react. Buffy couldn't help it, she broke out giggling. Tightening her grip on Spike's hand, she continued through the kitchen to find Dawn beaming at her, Willow and Tara sharing knowing smiles, Xander shaking his head with a slight smirk on his face, and Anya telling him to pay up on their bet. It was only Giles who had a non-reaction that she didn't feel like trying to analyze at the moment.

They had almost made it up to her bedroom safely, no one daring to interrupt, when she heard Willow call after her. She told Spike to go up without her and turned to face her friend on the stairs.

"What is it, Will?"

It was startling but endearing, seeing Willow look at her nervously, fiddling with her hair like she used to when she was a shy, un-assured teenager.

"I got a call this morning. From LA. They, uh, need help with something. Do you think I could get away? Just for a few days. Tara said she could stay here if-"

"You guys should go."

"Are-are you sure?"

Buffy smiled, making Willow relax.

"Tell Angel 'hello,' for me."

"It wasn't him who called. I mean, it was his friend, Fred. I'm sure he would have called you if-"

They both turned towards the direction of her bedroom where they knew Spike was waiting, and most likely listening, before turning back to each other.

"I know."

"I won't tell him, about Spike I mean."

Buffy smiled, though she looked deep in thought.

"No, I don't think that'd be a good idea. Too much else going on. I don't need jealous vampires turning against each other."

"Especially of the soul-variety."

"Hurry home, Will, if you can. We're gonna need you guys."

Willow nodded. With a smirk, she gestured up the stairs, releasing Buffy from the conversation.

"Enjoy your day off. We'll come up with something away from the house to do with the girls."

Buffy was beaming when she walked into her bedroom.


	21. Chapter 21

Buffy found it was actually sort of fun training the girls with Spike acting as an active participant. The girls fed off their good energy, thrived in particular if either paid one a compliment, and Buffy liked this role- fun, respected General Buffy. Spike was no longer hiding in the shadows, broody and morose. He watched the Potentials closely, learning their strengths and weaknesses, encouraging them on patrol in his own faux mocking way. When the girls were looking- and with their own live romance novel playing out in front of them, they were always looking- Spike tried to play the perfect gentleman.

He was trying to lead by example, keeping his fangs to himself, not taunting his prey, but going right in for the kill, listening to every word of one of her speeches, and following every command of her battle plans. It was infuriating.

For one, and she was loathe to admit it often, but had received much enthusiasm in revealing she found his fangs to be as cute as they were sexy, especially when he was being all playful and growly. Second, Buffy enjoyed the fight, something she learned from Spike, both in fighting against and with him. Third, it benefitted her to have someone whose judgment she trusted implicitly to cut off her tangents and call her into action, and not to mention, she missed their heated banter. It was foreplay for them.

Buffy missed the fierce warrior who always had her back, admired the slayer as much as the woman, but who always pushed her past her comfort zone to be better. It made her heart rate bubble over just thinking about it. But she had a damn happy vamp on her hands, one who was sweet and loving, yet still bordering on happily depraved in their sex life, and she was not about to mess up their little time of bliss throughout so much badness. So while she listened to him lecture the girls on the best way to behead a vampire, sounding too much like a cross between Giles and Willow, Buffy was trying not to frown. Sure, the girls were eating up every word, something they so didn't do for her, but she knew they'd benefit more from his darker, grittier perspective. It gave her an idea.

Leading them in the direction towards home, the girls buzzing with excitement, Spike glowing from when she'd taken his hand, Buffy guided them all unsuspecting towards a crypt she knew held at least one vampire. She had been saving it as a treat just for her and Spike, hoping for a possible nest, or a space to be completely alone, but it was time the Potentials learned, and Spike remembered, a real battle relied solely on instinct with little time to think back on lectures and textbooks.

"Spike?" She pulled back on his hand, watching as the girls walked in front.

"Hm?"

Keeping her voice to a whisper, she said, "I have an idea. More practical, less talky." Spike purred. She smirked. "Sure, that, but I meant for the girls. Right now. There's a crypt up ahead. Vamp inside. I was thinking we could lock them in. "

"I know they're annoying, Luv, but don't you think that's a bit extreme?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "They need real experience, Spike, mommy and daddy can't always have their backs reciting the rule book."

"Is that what you think of us then?"

"What do you say?" she pressed, knowing he was trying to distract her.

"It's your call, Luv. Always is. If you think it's best."

His sigh told her he wasn't entirely convinced and she was wondering if this might finally be the thing he called her on, and if she should let him. The decision was too dire right now though and he didn't continue.

"I do."

He nodded, looking grim. "Lead the way then, Pet."

Gripping his hand a little tighter, she allowed the girls to continue their chattering until she saw the crypt in the distance.

"Hey!"

They all stopped, turning to look at her, on alert and brimming with uncontained energy.

"What was it you said, Spike? That vamps always have their weapons on them?"

"Uh-"

So she was going off script a little, Buffy was feeling a little playful, but she also had a point to prove to all of them.

"When a vampire comes at you, whether you see it or not, most likely, he's got his fangs out and ready. You won't have time to think. Just react."

"But we've already-"

Buffy waved the voice off and gestured to Spike. "Come at me."

"Buffy-"

"What are you? Afraid? The 'Big Bad'? Run at me."

Spike looked as though he were chewing on the inside of his mouth. He leaned his neck to one side and cracked it. "Give a bloke a minute, you-"

"No, don't think. Don't plan. Attack."

His eyes narrowed, telling her he didn't much like the way she was speaking to him like one of the Potentials. She was trying to steer him into their bantering, but he just seemed annoyed. Regardless, he ran at her, face shifting in seconds, lunging, and she splayed him onto his back, straddling his lap.

A chorus of appreciation sounded behind her, but she was focused on the man beneath her. His face was still bumpy, fangs out, breathing heavy, and she wanted nothing more than to reach down and explore the warmth spreading through her. It was only when she shifted her hips slightly, as a promise as to what was to come later, that she elicited a grimace of pain rather than the groan of pleasure she expected.

"Are you alright?"

"That's hot," she heard, maybe Rona.

Yeah, it kinda was, except Spike had gone silent and refused her attempt to look at his ribs. He hadn't seemed to be bothered the past few nights, though she'd been admittedly much gentler in those moments. He did take her hand to get up when she extended it, but didn't quite meet her eyes when she tried to catch his gaze.

"Your turn." They all looked at her expectantly, which was rare. Buffy gestured towards the crypt. "You've seen me and Spike take down the baddies, even been there up close and a little personal, but you've no idea what it feels like, the fear and the adrenaline, how you're going to react to death creeping up on you."

As she spoke, she walked towards them, leading them into the open door of the crypt. They continued to stare, wide-eyed, excited, but with a tremor of fear.

"All you've got are your instincts and your weapons, if you're quick enough to utilize them."

With a flick of her wrist, she tossed a stake towards them and shut the door behind them. Turning around to face Spike, she tried to keep the nerves from showing. He wasn't looking at her, hyper-focused on the door and the sounds emitting from it. It really was sweet, how he cared for them, at least for the cause, but as a slayer, you needed tough love. The old Spike harped on her for it constantly.

* * *

Back at home, as the girls swarmed the living room, filling in the rest of the group who hadn't participated on their glowing success, Spike remained silent, a frown marring his face. With a sigh, attempting to stay calm, Buffy approached him.

"What's the what?"

"'T's nothing."

"Spike-"

"Can we talk in private? The basement?"

She nodded, wishing they could take advantage of the girls' distraction in a different way, but knowing they were going to have to have this conversation eventually.

"Alright, tough guy. What's-"

"That was dangerous. Unnecessary-"

"We live on a hellmouth that's threatening to collapse within itself. When is it not dangerous?"

"They're young-"

"And troubled and innocent and scared and different and alone and they've got nothing but me and you to defend them, and that's not always going to be the case. We've already lost a few of them, Spike. They're slayers, almost, and they've got a hell of a burden without any of the talent. Yet, they still think they're superheroes. They need to learn, to see, to experience what they're going to face. One fledge is nothing to what's coming. We both know that."

"But-"

"I love you, I hope you know that. I love that you're this sweet, caring guy who doesn't want to see any of his tribe hurt. I love that you see them as your tribe and that you're being careful and kind, but that's not what they need. And it's not what I need in this fight, Spike. I need my equal back, the only one who I know who will have my back no matter what decision I make."

Buffy stopped to take a breath and tried to analyze what he was thinking. Spike looked like he wanted to punch a wall, his ears practically blowing out steam in anger, but it thrilled her.

"He's not-"

"He's you. And so is this souled-version. Why can't I have both?"

Watching closely, Buffy noticed as he balled and unballed his fists, breathed in and out deeply, and stared at a space above her head rather than right at her. She waited for the outburst, wanting anything he could throw at her. Instead, he crossed the room, fumbling through his pile of belongings and yanking on his leather jacket. Smirking, she thought he was putting it on as a peace offering, but he wasn't smiling back at her. Opening her mouth, she heard the door creak open from above.

"Buffy-?"

 _Giles again_ , she sighed, thinking that her Watcher needed to work on his timing.

"Yes, Giles?"

"Would you come up here for a second, I have to-"

"I'm actually in the middle of something with Spike right now, so-"

"Quite, but it's important. I thought maybe you'd like to patrol with me tonight. I liked the idea you had, about showing the girls a more practical standpoint."

Buffy made a face at Spike, as if to say, 'told you so,' but he only rolled his eyes and continued to ignore her.

"You know what? I think we're done here, anyways. I'd love to patrol, Giles. A little OG Slayer and Watcher time."

Above, she heard Giles chuckle and shut the door behind him. Things between them had been tense, more distant, even before she admitted her relationship to Spike, and maybe this was one relationship she could mend right now. The stupid, stubborn vampire in front of her wasn't giving her much at the moment, so if she could get out of the house, clear her head, she could come back with a little more patience. He'd benefit from time away from her too, she was sure.

"Spike-"

"Go on then, Slayer. Watcher's waiting."

* * *

Spike was fuming. The worst of it was, he knew, deep down, Buffy was right. He'd been acting like a ponce, his soul battering back and forth between being overjoyed by things with Buffy and overwhelmed by guilt with things of the past and not feeling worthy. It was easy to overcome, when she kissed him, snuggled close, or took his hand. It was even easier, working with the girls, ensuring that they learned not only how to fight, but to survive. It was a shame, for them to meet under these circumstances, to have these young girls in such dire conditions. The soul in him was yearning to save lives, not see more destruct, and yet, he had no control over it. Especially with his trigger always a potential threat to any of them. Unnecessary danger just seemed so, unnecessary, but they did need to learn.

And the chit wanted him to wear the jacket again, that symbol of his dark past that he'd thrust aside as a parting of ways. It did make him feel like more of a fighter, give him a bit of confidence, and he hated himself for it. Things had to get shot to hell, as they had been going so well for more than twenty-four hours. Deciding he'd give himself a few more minutes of self-pity, he knew he'd have to man-up when Buffy arrived back from patrol with the Watcher. It was kind of fun messing with the girls, like when they'd taken them to Willy's to take in all the demons crowding the bar.

Settling onto his cot, Spike rummaged around in his jacket pocket for his cigarettes when he heard the door creak open. It wasn't the slight, but persistent footsteps he expected from Dawn, and the lack of giggling alerted him to the fact that it wasn't any of the girls or Andrew coming to bother him. There was a heaviness to them, and he suspected maybe it was the Whelp, wanting to escape to the Bronze for a round of estrogen-free pool for awhile, when he looked up and found the principal staring at him.

The man was cold, but not altogether threatening as he cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak.

"I uh- had something I wanted to show Buffy, something I think is important with the First, but I guess she's gone out with Rupert."

 _Rupert_ , Spike wanted to laugh. Of course the two men were chums. Both hated him, for one.

"Won't be long, I'm sure-"

"Yes, and I don't think it's dire necessarily, but I thought maybe, you'd come take a look at it."

Seeing his self-pitying options exploding, Spike sighed and stood up. Maybe Buffy'd see this as Super-Warrior Vampire taking action.

"Alright then. But only because I've got nothing better to do."

He didn't see the principal's eyes glower when he noticed the jacket Spike now donned.

* * *

Buffy never ran so fast in her life. Her heart was pounding, her thoughts beating to the sound of 'no no no' as she raced towards Robin's house. She couldn't believe it, not of Giles at the very least, and not of Spike to have fallen for it. They'd set up the both of them, Giles going on and on about the importance of sacrifice in war, of leaders having to make grave decisions on the basis of for the greater good. At first, she'd rolled her eyes and let it flow in one ear and out the other as she focused on the basics of staking a vampire. Most of her thoughts were centered on how she'd make things up to Spike, while still getting her point across, maybe showing him just how much she appreciated him in that jacket. Then she realized what was happening.

The door swung open as she approached the house, but Buffy didn't stop until she had bowled into a solid figure in black. Spike, a little worse than he'd been before with scratches across his face, but very much still undead and standing. He took her breath away, the relief of him.

He mistook her analytical glance over him, checking him over just to be sure her eyes weren't deceiving her, because of course he did.

On the defense, he said, "Didn't kill him, you know. He attacked me. Figured out the trigger, made me go all crazy, but his attempt to make it personal backfired. Made me figure some things out about myself. Well, it's gone anyways. The trigger. The First can't get me, you've got your warrior back, and your boy's still alive. Doesn't mean I won't- If he tries anything again, I'll-"

Unable to restrain herself any longer, Buffy threw herself on him, her mouth finding his and latching on as though it were her lifeboat.

"He's not my boy," she mumbled against his lips.

"Whatzat?" but he hadn't fully stopped kissing her.

She pulled away, but held onto him tightly, murmuring against his shoulder. "He's not my boy. But I am glad you're both still standing. I'm going to need you, in very different ways, if we're going to bring down the First."

"And the Watcher?"

Buffy's eyes turned cold. "I haven't figured out how to handle that one yet. When I found out patrol had been an excuse, I- I didn't have time to process. God, Spike, I thought-"

"'M not." He nuzzled her neck.

Savoring it for a moment, Buffy sighed for what felt like the millionth time.

"I've got to deal with this, but don't- don't go far. I don't want to think of what Giles might do if he sees you walk through the door without me."

A few minutes later, Buffy's heart was still pounding with remembered fear and the knowledge of the loss she could have been enduring, gripping Spike's hand, and wondering how things had gotten so bad between her and Giles that he'd fallen for this half-assed attempt by a desperate vengeance-seeker who couldn't see the bigger cause. She'd made it very clear to Robin how she felt about Spike, both as a lover and as a necessity in the upcoming battle. Having known and loved Giles for so long, she didn't think she'd even have to have this conversation.

"Good thing did come out of this all, Luv."

"Hm? What's that?"

"You've got both now."

 _Yes,_ Buffy thought, _at least she had that._


	22. Chapter 22

**AN: Some of the dialogue was taken from the episode, _Dirty Girls._**

She'd slammed the door in Giles' face, but it still didn't satisfy her anger. He may not have understood her love for Spike, but she'd made it clear that she did love him, and that should have been enough. It was more than that he'd put Spike at risk. That was something she'd never fully forgive, but the other part of it was, after all these years, after all that she'd done, Giles didn't trust her instincts. Maybe he didn't understand her like he thought he did. When she'd needed him most, he left for England, thinking it would be best for her to gain independence. Had it not been for Spike, Buffy wasn't sure where she would be now. With the First, she was in the battle of her life, uncertain of so many facets, but now Giles was questioning what she did know to be true: Spike was an asset.

Yeah, so she liked Spike around, a lot, but he was a fighter and would never give up on her. It was more than she could say of the rest of them. They'd all doubted her at some part over the years, and that was to be expected when fighting for your life, except for him. Even when they were battling against each other, Spike never doubted her potential. He challenged her, pushed her, but never doubted that she'd triumph. That, more than anything, had helped bring her back to life.

After they'd gotten home, she hadn't been in the mood for conversation. She brushed past the others without as much as a 'hello' or 'goodnight,' even though she suspected none of them had been in on the deceit. Leading Spike by the hand, she'd stormed into her bedroom, kicked out the group of girls congregated there, and kissed him until her head felt dizzy from lack of air. He'd chuckled, telling her he was fine, better even, but she'd kissed him again and again, until she'd realized she was on top of him and he'd alleviated them both of their clothes.

Giles had knocked on the door, argument already on his lips, saying Spike's loss was ultimately for the greater good, so Buffy threw on her robe, left her hair and make-up as is, and allowed Giles in the room only so far as so he could spot Spike and smell the hint of sex in the air. Mouth open, words failed him, and so Buffy told him that he'd made a choice and now she was making hers. Boom, door slammed.

One hand still on the door, she couldn't help the tears that threatened to spill as she remained turned away from Spike, but his damn vamp senses must have alerted him, or maybe it was simply her demeanor, but he'd come up behind her and held her close. She'd twisted around in his arms, thrown her arms around his neck, and sobbed; for the loss that she suffered, for what she had almost lost, and for what she would lose, despite her most valiant efforts. It was as though seven years of grief escaped at once.

She lay next to him now, sidled up as close as she could, breathing in the scent of him. He had one hand in hers, the other draped around her waist, as she traced a finger down his cheekbone. He did seem lighter, more confident, but Buffy wished it had been won on his own terms. Before sleep took over, she thought, if they couldn't all stand united, at least she still had him.

When this was all over, Buffy was going on vacation. She'd fly off to Europe, Dawn probably along with her, maybe Willow and Tara and Xander and Anya too, but definitely Spike, and during the mornings and early afternoons, she'd lock herself away in her hotel room with her vampire and spend hours upon hours making up for lost time and basking in his presence and this sweet solace and for not having a life or death mission interrupting. As the sky darkened, she would slip outside, dragging Spike all across the continent, making him tell her everything he knew about the history and the sites and the culture and it would be bliss. Until then, she'd have to open her eyes and face another day on the hellmouth.

Arguing could already be heard from the kitchen. Buffy groaned as she opened her eyes, but instead of the blank, white wall of her ceiling that she'd expected, she faced twin, sparkling blue eyes staring down at her.

"Creep much?" She scoffed, but made no effort to move.

"G'morning to you too, luv."

"No one said anything about a good morning."

"Both still here, aren't we?"

"Ever the optimist, lover."

Spike purred at that, leaning down and closing the distance as his lips met hers. Mmm, this was definitely the best way to wake up. She reluctantly pulled away as the arguing got louder.

"Did Andrew somehow get that camera back?" She muttered as she sat up in bed.

"Think Demon-girl got a hold of it."

"Ugh, I don't want to know why."

"Unless it has something to do with the Whelp, I wouldn't mind- Ah-"

Buffy punched him for that, placed a kiss upon the spot she'd slightly maimed on his shoulder, and stood up.

"Can't we hide the day away in here? 'T's what I plan to do. Much more fun if you join me."

Thinking once more of 'some day,' Buffy smiled at him.

"Gotta put out fires downstairs before work calls," she paused. "I spend far too much time with adolescents."

Spike growled.

"What's the what?"

"Still working for that bugger?"

"Wood happens to be there and happens to be my boss," she gave him a lock as he scoffed, "So technically, I guess, yes I still work for him, but-"

"Think you have more'n an excuse to call hooky. Could get him to pay for-"

"I need an excuse to get away from those girls," at his suggestive leering, she giggled and continued, "that somehow still constitutes as being a functional living being."

Spike laid back down against his pillow, cuddling into the blankets, and she almost gave in, but he probably knew that.

He said, "Not living. Don't have to be functional."

Buffy threw the other pillow at him, sighed, then stepped out into the real world.

* * *

Wood wasn't at work and Buffy was glad of not having to endure an awkward exchange. He'd been bloodied and beaten, nothing more than he deserved, so she suspected he didn't want his students to see him like that. It was a quiet day, both from students and any hellmouth activity, and she'd soaked up all the quiet she could before calling it a day. She'd called to check in at the house multiple times during the day, to make sure that Spike was okay and that Giles stayed far away from her bedroom. Willow had promised on all occasions that Spike was fine, still sleeping, dirtying the living room with mugs of blood as he played video games with Xander, training the girls in the basement, and finally napping in her room. It was that promise that lured her home eventually, but when she stepped through the door, she came face-to-face with a jittery vampire who practically dragged her back outside.

Buffy did little to argue as she could hear the arguments from the front porch and suspected a little couple slaying would do her heart good. Few normal vampires and demons remained out in the open these days, but they'd had fun keeping score until Spike had taken off after a particularly agile female-vamp. She'd let him enjoy his free-range sprint until she spotted an unwelcome sight take him down. Wonderful, another person trying to take down her man.

Not sorry at all, she said, "Sorry, Faith. I didn't realize that was you."

Faith smirked. "It's all right, B. Luckily, you still punch like you used to."

Rolling her eyes, Buffy turned to Spike and helped him up. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Terrific," he groaned.

Faith said, "Are you protecting vampires? Are you the bad slayer now? Am I the good slayer now?"

"He's with me," Buffy said. "He has a soul."

"Oh, he's like Angel?"

Spike scoffed. "No."

Rolling her eyes again, Buffy said, "Sort of."

"I am nothing like Angel."

"He fights on my side. Which is more than I can say for some of us."

"Yeah, well if he's so good," Faith argued, "what's he doing chasing down defenseless-"

Buffy saw the vampire jump up and approach Faith, but she didn't do anything to stop the blow. Looking at Spike, she smirked, but he was frowning, lost in his own head.

"That's one of the bad guys."

As Faith fought the vampire, she said, "You should make 'em wear a sign. May I?" She took the stake from Buffy. "Thanks.

Spike piped up, "Angel's dull as a table lamp. And we have very different coloring."

Sighing, Buffy turned back to Faith.

"Okay, catching up. Anything else I gotta know?"

"Nice to have you back," and Buffy felt like she almost meant it.

They'd made it home with little talking. The good mood she'd riled up when slaying sizzled as Buffy caught up Faith about the First and Faith told her about the Potential in the hospital. It all seemed endless, and now Spike was silent again, probably coming up with arguments as to how un-Angel-like he was, which he was undoubtedly saving for later. Leaving Faith's arrangements in Giles' hands, without so much as a glance in his direction, Buffy advanced upon the lack of arguing and relative silence throughout the house, and headed to bed. She wasn't particularly hungry and she was wondering how she could prevent Spike's rambling against Angel without a fight when he closed the bedroom door behind them and kissed her. Oh, so he preferred to show her how unlike Angel he was. She wasn't one to argue and just like that, her tension decreased.

* * *

It didn't matter the amount of things Buffy had on her list filed under "worse than…" being fired still sucked. The principal, not quite recovered, had made it into work and decided she was no longer needed. She should have seen that coming, but to be honest, she didn't think he'd work up the courage. Pouting, she opened her bedroom door, hoping to find Spike participating in a mid-day nap, and found it empty.

He wasn't in the living room or the kitchen, and though the basement sounded quiet, she tried there anyway. Faith was looking a little too cozy curled up on the cot next to Spike. Stopping at the bottom, she crossed her arms, and tried to look judgmental without jealousy. Inside, her stomach was rolling with jealousy, but neither of them had to know that. If she thought about it, and Buffy was so not going there right now, Spike and Faith had a lot of similarities that might make them a good match. Buffy shook her head and decided, firmly, opposites were better in relationships.

Good vampire, Buffy thought, as Spike hopped off the cot and approached her. She allowed him to brush his lips against hers, welcoming her home, but sent a glare in Faith's direction. "The Bird and I needed a bit of an escape from the girls. You understand?"

She did, but she wasn't letting them off that easy.

"Why aren't you at work, Luv."

She also wasn't allowing him to change the subject, mostly because she didn't want to admit she'd been fired in front of Faith.

"Thought there were more important matters to handle at home."

Spike's eyes twinkled in understanding, but at least he had enough common sense to not say anything. Faith stood up and cleared her throat.

"Willow's at the hospital if-"

"Stopped there on my way home actually. She's awake and went over everything with Will."

Faith opened and closed her mouth. "Alright then. I'll just-" She gestured to the stairs.

"Actually, you can have the basement. Spike and I are going upstairs to-"

Dawn's voice called down the stairs. "Buffy?"

"Yeah?"

"Willow's back from the hospital. Said she wants to go over everything."

Buffy sighed. "Soon."

Both Faith and Spike issued her a confused look, but she didn't have time to explain. Spike, maybe, someday soon, but definitely not to Faith. She took his hand, grasping it harder than she normally would, and guided them upstairs.

* * *

The plan had not been perfect, the girls not ready, and they'd suffered so many injuries. They weren't fighting as a team, which was hardly surprising considering so many of them were divided. The Potentials had noticed the tension between Buffy and Giles and appeared to split down the middle, choosing sides. Xander had nearly lost an eye, but last minute, Spike had knocked him to the side and kicked Caleb in the groin. It had given them mere seconds to escape before further damage occurred.

Buffy couldn't sleep, alarmed once again, how her powers seemed inferior to that of the pastor, as it had against the uber-vamp in the beginning. Her body was thrumming in unalleviated fear and desire to defend. The people she loved the most were being threatened, again, and she had no idea how to prevent it. Every second, there seemed to be an even larger threat looming. Threats that either held super super power or were incorporeal. She gripped Spike's forearm to anchor herself as her thoughts swirled. She knew he wasn't asleep either, but he simply placed a kiss on her head and held her closer. If ever she needed his faith in her, it was now.


	23. Chapter 23

They all thought that they understood, but they had no idea. Buffy was on her way to the Bronze, something she wished desperately she was doing for pleasure, arm linked with Spike, her friends chattering around her, only a slight apocalypse threatening. She'd had another hell of a day, getting pummeled by Caleb while she was packing up her desk at the school and she would have really enjoyed a pity party of two, but even her last source of comfort was gone. Giles sent him off with Andrew of all people for a mission she didn't care to understand. She couldn't believe that he agreed to go, without saying goodbye, but Giles stiffly informed her that he had told Spike it would have been what she wanted. Now instead of a fun night out, she was rounding up the troops to tell them, once again, how dire the situation was in which they found themselves.

It pained her, to envision Xander and Anya and Willow and Tara dancing, lost in their own little words, Dawnie giggling away with a group of girls her own age. Faith was the cool one, equipped with all the slayer powers and none of the responsibility. That she'd inspired this trip was not lost on Buffy. She wished she could have been the one to take them out, ensure them that everything would be okay, but there wasn't time for babying. Giles was at least right about the fact that this was war. It seemed hypocritical that he believed Spike had to be taken out for his interference in her life when he allowed the rest of them this excursion, but she was tired of fighting him.

The happy scene she envisioned flew out of her mind as Buffy walked into what appeared to be the end of chaos. Faith was dusting herself off, the girls all talking in loud, excited voices. She'd had enough, sent them home, then let off on Faith. It felt good to punch her at first, but her message still wasn't received. Faith never worried about being the responsible leader, the girls didn't respond to her as someone who deserved respect, and even after everything, her friends still doubted her.

Back at home, she just wanted to go to bed, but she needed to press on. She wanted this done. None of them wanted to go back to the vineyard, griping about injuries and carelessness, and they refused to see that fighting was not perfectly executed plans but persistence. It was Faith who told her to stand down, but Wood and Giles were quick to back her up. Emboldened by the "elders'" responses to Buffy, the girls spoke out, suggesting she had no idea what she was doing. If only, maybe it'd be easier. To pass it off to someone else. To pick and choose the moments she cared.

Looking at them all, eyes sweeping across the room, Buffy kept her head up high.

She said, "If that's how you all feel, good luck to you then. All you, Faith."

She was in the doorway, ready to give in and give up, to hell with all of them, when she heard Tara's voice, no longer hesitant, call out to her. Buffy half-turned, body aching, heart breaking, but there was something different in Tara's eyes.

"I'm coming with you."

"You don't-"

"Me too."

It was Willow, Xander smirking behind her, holding Anya's hand, who looked hesitant, but still present. They all jumped out of the way as Dawn barreled towards her, throwing her arms around her and sobbing an apology. They all crowded out onto the porch, her heart swelling. Looking back into the house, her once sanctuary from the hellmouth, and saw Giles standing in the hallway. He opened his mouth to speak, but his resolved face was on, and Buffy shut the door behind her.

The town was empty save for them and it wasn't hard, finding a place to stay for the night as they regrouped. They broke into pairs, Willow and Tara, Xander and Anya, her and Dawn and slept, though Buffy fitfully, still thinking of what was to come and where Spike had gone.

Hours later, Buffy still couldn't sleep. It was relief, to have her friends beside her, an overwhelming feeling of warmth in an otherwise cold time. Giles was a loss, but lately, he didn't seem to make the best choices when it came to their relationship. Buffy had who she needed, the gang, her sister, and somewhere, Spike. It hit her then, what she needed to do. Kissing her sister on the forehead, she headed back out into the night.

Caleb was waiting for her, but she was renewed. In the end, she had the scythe. She made it home by dawn, hoping somehow Spike would have made it to the new location, but he wasn't there. Willow and Tara were in serious research mode, trying to figure out what the scythe did. Part of her wanted to send Dawn off with Xander, far from the battle, but both of them had proven themselves over the years, and she knew they wouldn't be separated from her.

Plans starting to solidify, Buffy headed out into the night once again, hoping to find Spike back at her house and to reconvene with the others. Only Giles and Andrew were there, telling her where the others were and though she desperately wanted to know where Spike was, she didn't have time. She made it in time to start dusting the Ubervamp and ushering the girls out. Faith was unconscious but alive and it was a struggle, dragging her out while trying to issue a sense of calm to the rest of the girls. This wasn't how she wanted them to learn their lesson.

Back at her house, everyone together, the focus once again was on healing. Buffy waited until they were settled before asking where Spike was. Andrew provided her a brief rundown of their mission and said they had been delayed thanks to a popped tire and Spike's allergy to the sun. They'd made it home after the girls had already gone and Giles had told them Buffy was patrolling separately and so Spike had gone after her.

A deeper worry fluttered low in her belly, and as she went in search of the old woman and the cave, Buffy kept waiting to run into Spike. Once she got this situated, she would find him and bring him home, make sure that he knew it was never her intention to separate them.

Buffy was trying to understand, how the scythe fit into the battle and how they could approach this so-called "coming evil", so many questions popping up in her mind to ask the woman when a loud crunching noise echoed throughout the cave and the woman lay dead at her feet.

Once again, she was battling Caleb, him aiming more for the scythe than for her when he was punched away from her. Buffy's heart fluttered, thinking Spike had found her, when she looked up towards Angel's smiling face. It was strange and so unexpected to see him after all this time. So much had changed. She barely had time to process it when he was knocked away by Caleb.

She wasn't sure if it was the scythe or her own knowledge of her power, but she knew what was going to happen before it did. Slicing through the air, she heard the thunk of metal on flesh and Caleb lay dead at her feet, in two. Angel was laughing. He'd been uttering some kind of commentary while she fought and for a moment, it felt just like old times. Though he'd never laughed or smiled as much as he was now.

Maybe it was the force of nostalgia, or she'd been caught up in the excitement and the finality of Caleb, but when Angel approached and tugged her close, she didn't stop him as he reached down to kiss her.

* * *

Spike found her, bloody finally. She had some sort of new weapon in her hand and she was magnificent. He'd been about to intervene himself when he sensed an unwelcome, familiar presence who made himself known before Spike could, so instead he waited. Damn him, he shouldn't have been surprised. That glint in her eyes of her defeat. The way she turned towards Angel and they came together. Lips meeting, stalled against one another, and Spike couldn't handle it anymore.

Maybe this was why she'd sent him away. Spike hadn't believed the Watcher when the man told him the mission was what Buffy had wanted. Had done it anyway because there was no time for dilly-dallying in war and he still had to play his part. Knew something was up, when the Watcher refused to look him in the eye when he asked why Buffy wasn't with the rest of the girls on whatever it was they were doing. He'd been trapped in a random house for an excruciating amount of time thanks to the sun, but when he headed out again, he'd caught a glimpse of her scent and it led him to her.

So the final battle was upon them and Buffy had chosen her vampire.

Spike saw Angel flash some sort of trinket at her, share some thoughts of being her champion before he ran off into the night.

He headed back to the house hours later, only with the intention of offering his services in battle. Endured so much already, might as well see it through the bloody end. Buffy was nowhere to be seen and Giles was looking grim, catching him up on everything that had actually happened. He seemed almost sympathetic to him now, which Spike couldn't stand. The Watcher knew he hadn't gotten the girl and so now he offered some sort of sympathy? Pity more like, and no thank you. With a promise the man would not tell Buffy that he'd stopped by or where he was going, Spike agreed to meet the next night.

All he wanted was to not care, about any of it. Buffy, the Niblet, the people he was becoming to see as his friends, the war. He wasn't sure if it was the soul or his desire to be apart of something, but it wouldn't let him rest. He spent the day stewing, planning out where he'd go after it was all over, but fairly certain this would be his last battle anyway.

Standing out on the porch, he could see them in the living room. Buffy was the center of attention, all eyes rapt on her, which was a pleasant surprise. For once, they were all listening. Things must really be coming together. No Peaches in sight either, but he didn't expect him to be far. Probably making himself at home in Buffy's room.

With a sigh, Spike opened the door. All eyes turned towards him and though he wanted to run back out the door, he stood his ground. Buffy's eyes widened and she looked- relieved maybe- for the second he allowed himself a glimpse of her, and she seemed to take a step forward, but Dawn was faster and she wrapped her arms around him. Enjoying it for only a moment, he patted her back, cleared his throat, and gently pushed her away from him.

So they were going to use the new weapon to embolden all the Potentials in the world with super powers. It was a high task for the witches, and for the rest of them too, who would be going down into the Hellmouth to fend off the Ubervamps. At least he'd go down fighting. With the understanding that this could be their last night, the groups dispersed. Spike watched as the Potentials, nervous and jittery stayed in the crowded living room, as the rest of them broke into pairs. Willow and Tara disappeared, followed by Xander and Anya, and Giles made eye contact with him for a moment, before guiding Dawn out of the room.

Spike didn't want to have this confrontation. He didn't want to face Buffy and her pity, telling him that she cared, but she loved Angel. Even though he knew it, he didn't want it thrown in his face anymore than it already was. His fingers reached into his pocket for a cigarette and he turned towards the door when a firm grip on his arm stopped him. Another sigh and he turned around.

"Spike-"

"'T's alright, Slayer, I-"

"It's absolutely not alright, Spike. Where the hell have you been?"

Pity was one thing, but anger? That was bloody unfair.

"Running your errands, looking for you. Found you, didn't like what I saw, so I went away."

"What you-" Understanding crossed her face and her expression softened. "In the cave."

Spike swallowed and nodded.

"Spike-"

"Save it."

"But-"

"We've got a war to win. No need for explanations. Go be with your sweetie and-"

"But you-"

"Will be there when it counts. Tomorrow, yeah, but-"

"If you'd just let me explain-"

"True love doesn't need explaining."

"True- Spike, I-"

"Got you a do-dad. Can't compete with that," he joked, but inside he felt like he was drowning.

"A what-zit?"

"The necklace."

"Oh, it's, a weapon of some kind. Angel said- I was going to give it to you-"

"Fine," he took it from the hand she extended."

"It's volatile. Angel said it should be worn by a-"

"Don't care what Big, Tall, and Forehead says about it. Will suit me fine."

Spike turned, no longer able to stand it. He didn't miss the desperation in her eyes, but he took it for fear that he was abandoning her fight.

"See you tomorrow, Slayer."

"Spike, wait-"

A scream cut her off and it took Spike only a second to glean it was a simple girly giggle, but Buffy jumped and turned her attention towards them. It gave him enough time to make his escape. It felt a little like bereavement, walking away from her, but he didn't want to see Angel and he definitely didn't need to see the two of them together again.

* * *

Buffy had turned away for one minute, confused and desperate and furious with the ignorant vampire, and by the time she turned back, he was gone. She wanted to go after him, but Giles wanted to go over the plan again and Dawn was feeling weepy. With a promise that both she and Spike would survive tomorrow, if only so that she could set his stubbornness right, she let him go.

She regretted that decision the deeper into the night they got. Andrew wouldn't stop asking them questions and Dawn kept trying to bring up old memories. The girls chattered nervously the entire night and Giles kept trying to engage her in conversation, not quite apologizing, but more pretending like everything was okay between them again.

The rest of them were in their pairs, spending what could be their last nights in the way she had wanted to with Spike, but Mr. Stubborn the Bloody had caught her moment with Angel and let his insecurities take hold. Okay, so she didn't exactly blame his misunderstanding, but he never even questioned her, didn't give her a chance to explain that though the kiss had been nice, there hadn't been sparkage. Buffy had admitted she loved Spike and Angel told her about him and Cordelia, and they'd both expressed false outrage and disgust before accepting that their love story was over. She'd sent him home and gone looking for Spike, only to come home and hear from Giles that he wouldn't be back until the next night.

Forced to be responsible, she couldn't spend the entire day and night searching for him, not that it would have made enough of a difference. By the time he made it back in the morning, buses loaded, blanket steaming, she was so decidedly angry with him that she didn't even look at him. He didn't even ask where Angel was, not that she was going to tell him now.

She said 'goodbye' to her friends without the intention of goodbye and headed into the depths of the Hellmouth, despite herself seeking out Spike so that she knew where he was at all times. He was wearing the necklace and fighting with fierce pride, passion, and skill, but also a recklessness she didn't like. It was the type of recklessness that didn't get him out of the cave in the end.

There were so many of them, ceaselessly coming, no matter how many her side slaughtered. The knife sliced into her and Buffy thought it was over. She thought of her friends, of the girls, and of Spike, but then the scythe started to vibrate in her hands and she knew Willow and Tara had done it. Girls around the world were now becoming slayers, the ones closest to her realizing it at that moment.

They were going to win.

Bright light surrounded them and for a moment, Buffy thought it was the spell, but then she looked back to see where Spike was and saw it was emanating from the amulet around his neck. He looked powerful, but resigned.

The cave shivered around them and she heard Faith yell for them to escape.

Ubervamps were dusting from the light and there was no longer a need to fight. As the girls started to run, she hurried towards Spike. He was sweating and the air around him was hot, but Buffy tried to get closer.

"Spike-"

"Go-"

"Not without you. You've done enough, you can still-"

"Wanna see it through to the bloody end."

She clutched his hand and their entwined fingers burst into flames. Tears in her eyes, she matched his gaze, pleading with him. She didn't know what to say until-

"I love you," she willed him to understand.

He smirked. "No you don't, but thanks for saying it."

The cave shook again and it was now or never. Buffy rolled her eyes, tightened her grasp on his hand, and used the other one to slice the amulet off his neck.

She caught his look of awe, but didn't linger on it, as she started to run, guiding them both out of the cave.


	24. Chapter 24

**AN: Some of the dialogue is taken from the episode, "Touched."**

They drove until the sky darkened and the city lights began to appear. Los Angeles was as far as they could travel, with the amount of them injured, all of them in desperate need for food, showers, and sleep. No one said much of anything on the bus. Buffy held tight onto Spike's hand, fiddling with the scar left behind from the spark between their hands. She rested her head on his blanket-protected shoulder to keep out the sun, a soft smile gracing her lips, despite all the loss and madness of the day.

Sunnydale was now a crater. She and Spike had made it out of the school just in time, racing towards the bus, which was made all the more difficult thanks to the sunshiny day. They'd stopped only for a moment, on the outskirts of the former town to assess the damage. Giles had asked what happened and Buffy told him, pride and fear still coursing through her, that it'd been Spike. Spike who still had not spoken a word, expressed no hint of how he was feeling, emotionally or physically. Buffy could tell Giles was impressed, an appearance of guilt and remorse evident. He looked at her then, really looked her up and down, , shuddered, and then pulled her into his arms. It was a fatherly show of affection and she found she couldn't deny him that comfort. They were a long way from forgiveness, but the man had seen the errors of his way, thankfully no long-lasting harm done to Spike, and so they were on the path to healing, in more ways than one.

It was Faith who reminded them they needed to get back on the road, suggesting Los Angeles and to Angel's hotel. Even the girls were quiet, strengthened by their powers, overwhelmed by the battle, and belittled by their losses. It was the first time they ever truly suffered, understood, the repercussions of wielding such power and responsibility and Buffy did not envy them. To her, it was another win with a lot of loss, but in the same sense, it was so much more than that. Other battles would come, apocalypses no less, but she'd closed the Hellmouth and now, for the first time, could choose herself what came next.

So despite the numbness that would eventually concede to mourning, Buffy loaded onto the bus behind the others and thought positively of the future. A future that would, she was certain, contain the brooding vampire who sat pensively staring out the window through a crack in his blanket. It was a funny sight, and she almost laughed, but then again, he'd just saved the world, been willing to sacrifice his life for it, and she'd kind of stolen away his big finish. Not that she was sorry for it, nor would he be later, once he settled and realized the magnitude of what they'd done, but for now, she forgave him his indecision.

The core of them had made it out alive and Buffy felt the tiniest bit guilty for the relief of it. Willow and Tara, Anya and Xander, Dawn and Giles, hell even Faith, and her and Spike. They'd banded together when it counted and they'd survived, again. She wondered if their futures would continue to carry them along together or if now was the time they'd drift their separate ways. Instead of deciding where she'd settle, some place with a decent school system for Dawn, and not tarnished by dark memories for Spike, Buffy allowed herself to rest, cuddling up to the vampire in question. Thank God he didn't flinch.

At the hotel, Angel was waiting for them. Without question, he had his staff usher them inside, separating them into hotel rooms, sending them food, and providing medical care to all who needed it. Spike was moving slowly, paler than usual, which was saying something. In a hushed voice, she suggested he seek medical advice, but he'd scoffed, claiming blood and rest would do him the best healing. She'd acquiesced, mostly because she didn't want to fight with him and also, he'd just saved the world, so maybe he deserved to make his own choices.

Waiting until everyone else had been sorted, Buffy stood at the edge of the lobby, by the elevators, Spike leaning against the wall for support, and looked back at Angel. He nodded and she offered him a small smile before turning away from him and helping Spike into the elevator. If Spike had seen, he gave no hint of a reaction. In time, now that she had enough of it to prove it to him, jealousy and insecurity would fade. All that would be left between them would be the trust, love, and respect they had somehow crafted over the years. Of this, if nothing else, Buffy was certain. She took his hand again, looking up at him, but his sight was on their intertwined fingers.

Once the doors opened, she guided him out and down the long hallway to their room. It was quiet, a testament to the weariness of the day. The second the door closed, he was on her, scooping her up into his arms, his lips and hands everywhere. Their faces were wet from their combined tears and she had no idea how he managed to remove her clothes so quickly, but then they were both naked and she was lost, lost, lost in the feeling of him when she somehow made out an uncomfortable hiss escape his lips. He tried to ignore it and press on, his lips sweeping over her neck, but she pulled away to get a good look at him.

Burned and scarred flesh shone from where the amulet had rested on his chest, his heart the center from whence the sunlight had poured. She gasped, she couldn't help it, her fingertips gentle as they outlined the area. Grimacing, Spike tried to put on a brave face, but there would be none of these falsities anymore, not between them.

Her voice was a whisper, "Spike."

He looked at her then, and nodded. Leading him over to the bed and having him sit on the edge, she shuffled into the bathroom and came out with a wet and cool face cloth, applying it to the burning flesh. He hissed again, but she pressed on.

"I should really get a cream-"

But he took her wrist, laid a kiss on it, before drawing her into his lap and holding her close. Not exactly sure when the comfort shifted, she found herself straddling his waist, staring down at him, awe and adoration lining his face, and she knew, he finally understood. She'd chosen him, and yet, she'd never really had a choice. He was so important to her, even when she couldn't admit it, and now that she could, well, only beautiful things could come of it.

Joining felt like relief and she couldn't contain the emotions anymore. She rode him with abandon, slow and tender, then fast and forceful. She came first, guiding him to his finish, then lay down gingerly, sprawled across his body and hoping to never let go. He chuckled, the only sign that he was still conscious and for awhile, that was enough.

They must have drifted to sleep at some point because the knocking at the door woke her from a mindless dream. Spike sat up first, nudging her up and she stepped into the bathroom to collect a robe. A befuddled bellhop greeted them at the door, blood for Spike and food for her. He also, thankfully, offered her a first aid kit, which she rummaged through and found cream to relieve the burn on Spike's chest. He allowed her to apply it as he downed mug after mug of blood

After awhile, he took the cream from her hands and suggested she eat. The skin was still red, but it didn't seem to bother him, so she sat beside him and ate her dinner. When they finished, Spike took the dishes out of her hands and lay back down on the bed. She cuddled up next to him, sighing, her mind racing. He chuckled and kissed the top of her head.

"Have a break."

"Too busy thinking of our future."

He laughed openly at that. "Where to next, Luv?"

Wiggling even closer, she issued an exaggerated, "Hmm. Was thinking a cozy crypt for two with a white picket fence?"

"Three."

"Huh?"

"Niblet, makes three."

"Don't tell Dawn I forgot her."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

It was her turn to scoff. "What about a change of scenery? Something a little colder, darker?"

"New York?"

"You have some history there."

"Time I made some new memories then."

"You're right, maybe we don't have to decide now."

She was starting to fall back to sleep when Spike shifted and sat up.

"Buffy?"

"Mm?"

Kneeling on the bed in front of her, he took both of her hands in his, kissing them.

"There's- Before we get on with our future, I want-"

He shook his head, looking away, trying to gather his thoughts. She brought a hand to his cheek and turned him back towards her.

She kept her voice gentle and encouraging, "Just say it, Spike."

"I've been alive a bit longer than you, and dead a lot longer than that. I've seen things you couldn't imagine and done things I'd prefer you didn't. I don't exactly have a reputation for being a thinker. I follow my blood, which doesn't always rush in the direction of my head. So I've made a lot of mistakes. A lot of wrong bloody calls. A hundred plus years, only one thing I've ever been sure of. You."

Her breath caught in her throat, tears heavy in her eyes. But he shushed her with a finger to her lips, so she waited.

"I'm not asking you for anything. When I tell you that I love you, it's not because I want you or cause I can't have you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I've seen your strength and your kindness. I've seen the best and the worst of you and I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. You're a hell of a woman. You're the one, Buffy."

They stayed staring at each other for a long moment, Spike looking nervously at her, Buffy overwhelmed by the love flowing through her. She giggled.

"You really are a bloody, sappy poet."

"Oi-" he started, hurt flushing his face, but she grabbed onto his shoulders and crushed herself against him, kissing him until he was as breathless as she was.

Pulling away only for a moment, she said, "I'm pretty damn happy to be the one," and then she claimed his lips once more.


End file.
